Nice picture! He's smiling. He can feel his roots growing into the ground, so he knows there will be many many more of him soon. He rather likes the regeneration process, and now that someone has handed him his glasses he can just relax, chill, and wait. He doesn't know why his wife makes so much of it. 'Course, it's a little bit different for a cow. She has to rear them but he just has to absorb into his children and then the factories do the rest! What a good life it has been! Recycling has mede all the difference.
lol... this is great, Susan!
Cute picture! I love it!
Stanley had arrived at the beach early, just as the tide was going out. It had taken some time to bury himself, but that was OK. He had been anticipating the fun he would have when the shapely bathing beauties saw him. They would be soooooo sympathetic, and would quickly dig him out and give him gobs of wonderful attention. As the sun slowly climbed the sky, he laid there dreaming of those beauties and what they would do for him. The sun was high overhead when he suddenly realized that the beach was deserted. Where were the beauties to dig him out? He could not dig himself out. He’d thrown the shovel in the bushes behind him. He could not reach it. Once a couple sea gulls came to snoop around him. He tried to shoo them away, but all they did was poop on the sand over his belly. It smelled gross. A short while later he heard a car stop in the parking lot beyond the bushes. There were several voices but he could not see anyone. Suddenly there was as explosion of sand across his face and he saw a nasty looking grade school kid holding his shovel. ‘Nasty’ had a look that said “trouble”. As ‘Nasty’ bent to fill the shovel with sand, a two-ton angel-of-mercy materialized and grabbed “Nasty’ by the ear, pulled him none to gently away and said some very un-angelic things to “Nasty”. Stanley was relieved to see ‘Nasty’ leave – only the shovel left with him. The afternoon passed slowly. The sun made his sweat. He wished he had something to drink. The tide started to come in slowly. Stanley hoped it will wash the sand away from his feet. The sun was setting, the tide lapping closer, but Stanley could not see it. Maybe that is good....By Marjory M Thompson