- The search light from the helicopter.
- The ray of the sun, passing through a hole in the roof.
- The beam of light from the motorcycle.
Reflection of light.
- Convex mirror
- Dental mirror
There's a dolphin on my doorstep. It's an ordinary day. He's delivering the paper in his ordinary way. There's a bison in my bathtub singing ordinary songs, and some hippos having ordinary hippo sing-alongs. In the pantry there's a penguin painting ordinary scenes of opposums in their ordinary orange submarines. There's an ordinary rhino racing up and down the stairs, chasing ordinary chimpanzees and ordinary bears. In the living room are llamas dancing ordinary jigs, like a dozen rather ordinary llama whirigigs. It's an ordinary day for me; I promise you it's true. And I hope your day is simply extra ordinary too.
When Larry made lasagna all his neighbors stopped and stared. His lasagna was the largest that had ever been prepared. He used ninety yards of pasta and a half a ton of cheese, and the sauce, he spread with spatulas that looked a lot like skis. With a hundred pounds of vegetables and wagon-loads of meat plus a tiny sprig of parsley his lasagna was complete. So he lifted that lasagna with a forklift and a crane and he placed it in an oven that was longer than a train. For a week, while it was baking, its aroma filled the town, till he took it from the oven piping hot and golden brown. All the neighbors came and tasted it but frowned at him, and then they complained, "It needs a bit more salt. You'll have to start again."
I had a dream of school supplies, where paperclips could talk; where poster paper hung around with marking pens and chalk. The stationery idled while the pencils madly raced. The clocks went 'round in circles, and the glue sticks merely paced. The binders were inseparable. They bonded with the tape. The workbooks exercised and helped the stencils stay in shape. Some calculators added to the numbers in this land, and music was provided by a singing rubber band. My dream was strange and truly cool, but this was even cooler: The dictionaries all looked up to me. I was the ruler.
I went to the doctor all covered in bumps. He said "you've got chicken pox, measles and mumps." He said "you've got whooping cough, tetanus, rubella, digestive dysfunction from green salmonella. "You've got halitosis and elephantitis. You've also got athletes foot and laryngitis. "You're covered with head lice, mosquitoes and fleas. You've even got pink-eye and mad cow disease. "What's more you've got cooties, a cold and the flu, but don't be upset; I know just what to do." He told me "I promise this won't hurt a bit," then grabbed a syringe like a barbeque spit. He made me bend over the seat of my chair then plunged that big needle in my you-know-where. So now I'm all cured of my cooties and fleas, my whooping cough, measles and mad cow disease. He cured me of every last sniffle and bump, and now I'm all better except for my rump.
If you give a mouse a motorcycle, don't be too surprised if he starts behaving strangely once he knows he's motorized. He may act a bit bizarrely. He may dress a little weird. He might buy a leather jacket and then grow a honkin' beard. When he straps a helmet on his head and boots upon his feet, then you'll see him pop a wheelie and go racing down the street. Pretty soon he'll find he's fond of doing motorcycle tricks. He'll be jumping over cars and trucks and buses just for kicks. He'll start working at the circus where he'll take away your breath as he rides with other rodents in the flaming cage of death. When he accidentally crashes he'll have no more fun and games; just the screech of twisting metal as his bike explodes in flames. And without his motorcycle he'll be fired from his job. He'll become depressed and lonely and a sad and smelly slob. And the only way to save him from this misery and pain is to buy another motorbike so he can start again. So remember this advice: Don't even trust him with your keys. If you need to give a mouse a gift, it's best to stick with cheese.
My turtle is the sporting sort. His sports are all extreme. He got so good at sleeping that he joined the napping team. He frequently competes at moving slowly in the yard, and, recently, he's got the hang of staring very hard. He races other turtles, seeing who can come in last. I hope you weren't expecting that my turtle would be fast. He's not too fond of motion, so you'll never see him run. He only plays the kinds of sports that turtles think are fun.
Today I had a problem when I tried to make my bed. My blankets and my comforter got wrapped around my head. I went to fluff the pillows but the pillow cover tore, and feathers flew all over as I stumbled 'round the floor. I accidentally grabbed the sheets and pulled them as I fell. I have to say, it seems my day's not starting off too well. I tripped upon a pillowcase and landed in a heap. Good grief! That's it! I'm staying here and going back to sleep!
There are beavers in the bathroom swimming circles in the tub where the beavers have decided to convene their swimming club. In their little beaver Speedos and their beaver bathing caps, they've been splashing rather happily while practicing their laps. They've been studying the butterfly, the backstroke and the crawl, and it's obvious they like it and they're having quite a ball. For we hear them all the time but we don't see them anymore, ever since they built a beaver dam behind the bathroom door.
Gerbil, gerbil, on the run in your wheel, that looks like fun. You must be in awesome shape. Are you trying to escape? Is that why you dug a hole? Where'd you get that vaulting pole? That looks like my grappling hook. Give me back that rope you took. Tell me what that ladder's for. Why's that hacksaw on the floor? Are those cable cutters there? Do I see a signal flare? Crowbar, blowtorch, chainsaw too? What do you expect to do? How'd you get that fuse to light? Hey! That looks like dynamite! Quick! Get out! It might explode! Scram! Skedaddle! Hit the road! Man, I'll miss you. You were fun. Gerbil, gerbil, on the run.