Sunday, July 1, 2012

The Wig on 67th Street.


She tried and tried to get rid of it but it always managed to find its way home...

The wig showed up on our street one morning and just sat there for about a week. Every morning Henry would run to the widow and ask, "Is da hair there, mommy?" Coming home, he'd spot it from far away and proclaim, "Herrrrrre comes da hair!" 
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