Work, Work, Work
That grasshopper came around today. Claimed he was sick and needed medicine. You could smell the whiskey on his breath. He offered to play his fiddle for us if we let him crash at the nest. We invited him in, then set upon him with ferocity. He'll add nicely to our winter stores.
My left antenna continues to droop slightly to the left. It is embarrassing, and I think the others are staring at me.
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