Once upon a time there was a little girl who was far too old to sit in a wicker buggy, but sit in it she did. She’d pout and fume and fuddle the day through as the talking tree, who didn’t make the cut for the Wizard of Oz, stood by her side. As people walked by she’d stare and glare and give them a Bronx cheer then act like she’d never even noticed them.

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As she grew older she continued to sit in the buggy, always refusing to accept the fact that she’d outgrown it. Little is known of what became of her, but eventually her legs dangled over the side and she’d pull the hood up while she smoked cigars. A child gone bad all because of wicker. Let this be a lesson should you decide to give a newborn wicker. Their fate is in your hands. Their fate is in your hands dude.

1 comment:

  1. LOL - I think my mom is "infected" with "Wickeritis". She keeps buying more chairs and things made from it. I personally can't stand the stuff (I'm the one that gets to repair and repaint it).