The Wild Girl on the Hill

Rocks are people too and deserve our respect!

Hiya, Friends! 

Yesterday, I considered becoming a feral girl.  You see, I wanted to adopt a pet rock I found in the driveway, and Mommy wanted me to leave the rock in the driveway. 

This was distressing to me, Friends. 

Do you know what goes on in the driveway?  I sure do!  People drive on that thing.  It gets cold and snowy.  It rains.  It's hot out there in the summertime. 

It's no place for a special rock like the rock I wanted to adopt, and Mommy was being heartless and mean, telling me I had to leave that rock out there in those conditions!

I knew if I wanted to rescue my pal from such abhorrent conditions, I had to take desperate measures.

Okay.  So they're not people, but rocks still deserve respect!

That's when I decided that if it came to it, I would live outside with my new pal the pet rock.  It would be a show of solidarity.  If the rock had to stay outside, I'd stay outside and give up the comforts of my nicey warm house, my soft blanket, and my Vitamin C lollipops.

Living outside like that, I'd probably go feral.  You know.  Wearin' cottonwood leaves sewn together for clothes.  Goin' to the bathroom outside.  Never havin' to comb my hair. 

Barkin' and snarlin' at passing motorists. 

The whole thing would be pretty embarrassing to Mommy, you know, havin' a feral little kid living in her yard.  People would wonder what's wrong with that wild little girl up on the hill.  She'd have a lot of 'splainin' to do, I'd imagine. 

You just don't see many feral kids around these days.  I mean really feral ones.  Not figuratively feral kids who are acting up in the grocery store or restaurant or mall.  So I'm sure the presence of one, up here on my very hill would provoke some questioning.

You haven't lived until you've befriended a pet rock!

Well, guess what. 

It worked.  Mommy asked me if I'd like to adopt that rock, and I said 'Yes!' because I did want to, and next thing I knew, we'd brought him inside, and we gave him a bath in the sink, with the fancy Mary Kay scrubby soap, and then I got to glue on a paira google eyes and a smile on my pet rock. 

I named him "Fluffy."  I'll put up pictures of me and Fluffy sometime.  The little guy is still gettin' used to the fact that he will never get rained on again.  He'll never get driven over by heavy cars or a big Ram 2500 again.  That's a lot to take in and consider, you know, Friends.  A lot, a lot. 

So I just hafta let my pal Fluffy the Pet Rock let it all sink in, and get used to livin' inside the house.  He's doin' all right, though.  I can tell he's really gonna like it here.  I can tell he's really gonna fit in.  I might even see if I can get him hired as a Paper Buoyancy Prevention Specialist at the office.  It'll be fan season pretty soon, and you probably can imagine what  mayhem that unleashes in an office where we still fill out TPS Reports (still don't know what they even are!) by hand, in triplicate.  Lotsa paper.  Fluffy might just be our rock to help tame that.

Anyway, Friends, I love ya lots, and I'll see you tomorrow, mmmmkay?  Enjoy your Friday!  Muah!