It Don't Fit, Woody
Cold days, colder nights, but only a bit of snow. The kind that doesn't even need shoveling, it's so shallow.
Not long ago I found myself in a big box, the retail sort that is, looking over the toys. Christmas is done, of course, but the first birthday of the year for the household is coming up, and this time she knows about it, is anticipating it, even if she can't count out the number of days to go.
Games, dolls, stuffed animals, electronic gizmos, Captain Canuck action figures, all the usual items were on display. Then I noticed Fire Fightin' Woody. It's the Woody of movie fame -- dressed the same, but including a handful of fireman's tools, such as an ax, a fireman's hat, something that looks like a water-hose nozzle. And of course, a penguin. I think the penguin was in the movie, too, and we all know how many firehouses have penguins as mascots.
I told Lilly that it didn't fit, somehow. Woody's a sheriff, and probably the only fire protection his jurisdiction had were buckets. Maybe if he'd gone back east he would have been in a fire crew, and doubled as a ward heeler or something. But that isn't quite right either. If he'd gone east, he might have ended up in Chicago. At the Stockyards. That's it. Stockyard Woody. I leave the kind of accessories he'd need mostly to the imagination, but I will suggest one: a sledgehammer. (Don't worry, I didn't suggest that to Lilly.)