I Miss My Old Sled

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Child’s Loose Grasp On Balloon Only Thing Between Peace And Anarchy At Restaurant

JACKSONVILLE, FL—Eating their meals and conversing pleasantly without paying any heed to how loosely the string was wrapped around the young child’s finger, diners at a local Panera Bread reportedly went about their lunch Wednesday completely unaware that 2-year-old Nate Pollen’s tenuous grasp on a red helium balloon was the only thing standing between peace and total anarchy.

Biologists Still No Closer To Discovering How Birds Have Sex

BERKELEY, CA—With not a single scientist having successfully observed the behavior despite extensive ongoing research, the field of biology has made no progress in its understanding of how birds have sex, experts at the University of California told reporters Wednesday.

Best Buy Employee Wearing Different Colored Shirt For Some Reason

‘His Shirt Is Black,’ Confused Customers Say

FAIRFAX, VA—Eyeing the staff member with wariness and confusion, customers at the Fair City Mall Best Buy location confirmed Wednesday that one of the store’s employees was, for some reason, wearing a black shirt rather than a blue one like the rest of his coworkers.

Nobel Peace Prize Candidates

There are 273 candidates for the Nobel Peace Prize this year, the second-highest number of nominees ever, and the laureate(s) will be announced Friday before the prize ceremony in December. Here are some notable candidates for this year’s award:
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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This Great Song, Bar Sources Report

TOMAH, WI—Pausing their conversations momentarily to call attention to the music playing on the establishment’s jukebox, sources at local bar Shepherd’s confirmed to reporters Friday that this is a great song.

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I Miss My Old Sled

I have been informed that winter has been upon us for a good month now. It is during this long season that my thoughts invariably turn to my childhood so long ago in the Oregon Territory. My dominant memory of those times is of snow, snow and more snow. Snow whirling about in great billows; snow piled in huge, sloping drifts; snow coming to rest against the rough-hewn timbers and window-panes of my mother's boarding-house.

But what was a white hell to most was a fairy wonder-land to me. My fertile imagination knew no bounds! Why, in my child's eyes, the snowy expanse could be transformed into a vast battlefield, electric with sacrifice and heroism for a glorious and noble cause! The Union forever!

Alas, it was all about to end. Immersed in my childish pursuits, how was I to know that the seemingly barren Colorado mine my mother had foolishly purchased long ago was to yield the richest silver lode in North America? Or that I was to be suddenly uprooted from my happy home and escorted to the big city by Mr. Thatcher, the cold and distant guardian my mother had appointed to look after me? That my adolescence and young adulthood would be a glum and endless succession of exclusive prep schools and Ivy League universities, from all of which I had managed to be expelled? That, on a coltish whim, I would purchase an impoverished little New-York fish-wrapper called The Onion and assume its editorship? Or that I would eventually lead this modest little daily to what it is today: the largest news-paper empire in the Republic?

Of course, I knew none of these things. But throughout my long and eventful life, even as I became the esteemed confidant of presidents and kings, I yearned for the cherished item that symbolized my forever-lost youth and innocence: my sled, Daisypetal.

What do you mean, no more moving-pictures before bedtime, Nurse? I'll look at them any time I want, you sow! No, I won't take my sleeping-potion now! Take that needle away from me! No! No, I... urr... glurglhhh...