Mysterious Joyce Oroz

It was a day like any other day, except the fog was out, the sun was in and the ocean was calm as green cool-aid. Even the gulls were resting quietly or maybe they were chuckling under thier breath at the blubbery log-jam floating beside the wharf.
About a hundred plump, lethargic, do-nothings rested their wiskered noses on their neighbors paunchy bellies. They closed their eyes and rode the gentle movement of the water as if they were a living, snoring, flotilla of seals. But there was mischief afoot. Every so often a young over-achiever seal would leap across the water and bounce over Mom, Pop, Baby Bubba and Uncle Snooze. The whole flotilla snorted, fussed, rearranged itself and finally settled down--until the next athletic juvenile swam toward the pack and jumped into the fray. No wonder the seals are always trying to catch up on sleep. Have they never heard of day-care?


Post a Comment