Dr. Ding-a-Ling had a 9-year-old daughter, Fruity Ding-a-Ling, who loved to play catch with her dad. Fruity ran into her father's office and squeaked, “Catch, daddy,” and heaved a basket full of fruit on top of his head. They splattered all over him and some on me. Right then and there I knew that we would be fruity splatter buddies forever. Father and daughter were playing catch, having a wonderful time, and I was thrilled to be a part of it all.
Fruity and I were cracking up and rolling on the floor. Then unexpectedly, the doctor quietly stood up and shrieked to high heaven, “I HATE YOU! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING FRUITY FRUITCAKE!” He then picked up a bullwhip and came after her with the anger of all angers. “I'LL BEAT YOU SILLY ONE OF THESE DAYS. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Fruity dashed out of the room like a lightning bolt. But one minute later, she ran right back in with another basket full of fruit. In rapid fire she threw one after another at us. “Catch, daddy! Catch, birdy! Bet you can't catch this, and this, and this.”
She threw a gazillion fruits at us. I loved it and I was right there with my mouth open all that time cuz I sure was hungry. Fruity was more fun than a 5-pound chocolate bar. Not only was she playing catch with her father and me, but she was also feeding us. What a wonderful daughter Dr. Ding-a-Ling had. She would be perfect for my mission to save people from themselves by feeding and making them laugh. She came over, hugged me, and said, “You're kooky looking. We're going to be friends.” Then ran out. |