Own nothing, (except Hugsy's identical twin, minus hat and scarf,) never
will.
First there was the factory, nasty, smelly place. Not much good can be said of it and I want to tell a happy story.
So, from the factory I was shipped off to the toy store, there were lots other like me there. Stuffed creatures with no past. It scared me a little, and I started to wonder who I really was.
I stayed there for a long time, watching the people who came in and out of the store, hoping one of them would take me home and tell me who I was. Nobody did and as one after another of my compatriots slipped off the shelf into waiting arms I began to get worried no one would ever come for me.
Then one day a child with sticky hands pulled me off the shelf and wouldn't let me go. (I'm not sure he could have even if he'd wanted to, seeing as his hands were covered with melted popsicle.)
Eventually his mother gave in and I went home with him where I joined a pile of other stuffed animals.
Every so often the child pulled me out of the pile and played with me, never for very long and not very often. It was rather boring actually. The rest of the creatures in the pile weren't that talkative and the only person I ever saw was the child.
One day after the child's rummaging through the pile had become so infrequent that we collected dust before we saw him again his mother came in. She chose about fifteen of us stuck us, in a box and drove us away from the house.
Before I knew it I was out of the box and back in another store, this one was much less welcoming and the stuffed animals were of all different sorts, cartoony and overly realistic, huge and miniscule, well loved and nearly brand new.
There were fewer customers here and the fear of spending the rest of my life on a shelf grew again. (No, I'm not sure how long stuff animals live, but I'd assume after awhile they'd rot and fall apart, which is not a pleasant thought.)
Anyway, I became good friends with a worn old giraffe while I was there and he deserves mention, because if not for him I'm sure I would have gone insane in that place. He'd lived there much longer than I and was absolutely content. I'm still not quite sure how he managed that.
So, months passed and I began to remember fondly the sticky handed child, that's how boring my days were.
Then, salvation! A young man came in, said I'd be perfect for Ben, (don't ask me who Ben is, I never got to meet the kid,) and pulled me off the shelf.
He took me to his apartment and I spent a couple days sitting in a corner waiting for what ever came next.
What came next was not Ben though, what came next was a scary movie during which I was grabbed from my corner and nearly crushed, the pressure increasing when ever the suspense was hiked up a notch. The guy didn't let me go after the movie finished, mainly because he fell asleep as soon as the credits started to roll.
Anyway, that's how I ended up here, Joey (that's his name) found another present for Ben and I no longer sit on a shelf wondering who I am.
I am Hugsy, Joey's bed time penguin pal.
First there was the factory, nasty, smelly place. Not much good can be said of it and I want to tell a happy story.
So, from the factory I was shipped off to the toy store, there were lots other like me there. Stuffed creatures with no past. It scared me a little, and I started to wonder who I really was.
I stayed there for a long time, watching the people who came in and out of the store, hoping one of them would take me home and tell me who I was. Nobody did and as one after another of my compatriots slipped off the shelf into waiting arms I began to get worried no one would ever come for me.
Then one day a child with sticky hands pulled me off the shelf and wouldn't let me go. (I'm not sure he could have even if he'd wanted to, seeing as his hands were covered with melted popsicle.)
Eventually his mother gave in and I went home with him where I joined a pile of other stuffed animals.
Every so often the child pulled me out of the pile and played with me, never for very long and not very often. It was rather boring actually. The rest of the creatures in the pile weren't that talkative and the only person I ever saw was the child.
One day after the child's rummaging through the pile had become so infrequent that we collected dust before we saw him again his mother came in. She chose about fifteen of us stuck us, in a box and drove us away from the house.
Before I knew it I was out of the box and back in another store, this one was much less welcoming and the stuffed animals were of all different sorts, cartoony and overly realistic, huge and miniscule, well loved and nearly brand new.
There were fewer customers here and the fear of spending the rest of my life on a shelf grew again. (No, I'm not sure how long stuff animals live, but I'd assume after awhile they'd rot and fall apart, which is not a pleasant thought.)
Anyway, I became good friends with a worn old giraffe while I was there and he deserves mention, because if not for him I'm sure I would have gone insane in that place. He'd lived there much longer than I and was absolutely content. I'm still not quite sure how he managed that.
So, months passed and I began to remember fondly the sticky handed child, that's how boring my days were.
Then, salvation! A young man came in, said I'd be perfect for Ben, (don't ask me who Ben is, I never got to meet the kid,) and pulled me off the shelf.
He took me to his apartment and I spent a couple days sitting in a corner waiting for what ever came next.
What came next was not Ben though, what came next was a scary movie during which I was grabbed from my corner and nearly crushed, the pressure increasing when ever the suspense was hiked up a notch. The guy didn't let me go after the movie finished, mainly because he fell asleep as soon as the credits started to roll.
Anyway, that's how I ended up here, Joey (that's his name) found another present for Ben and I no longer sit on a shelf wondering who I am.
I am Hugsy, Joey's bed time penguin pal.