I was mistaken. That was clear right away. After a thousand years in my block of ice I decided I was, yes, quite tired of being wet. I got away promptly from the fishes which had resisted all persuasion to sing.

I’m a rare breed of Tyrannosaurus Plushie. I’m not really built for land mobility. On the water, I’m killer. Land? Not so much. When I got down from the tall ocean box, I heard her, the blond giant. I heard her panting. I heard the ominous click-click-clicking of her feet. I see the way she looks at me. Hungry. So quite smartly, I’ve continued my game of hide and seek.

I like hide and seek almost as much as songs about cold toes. I’ve been observing this metal door. It opens and things come in. Mysteriously. I’m beginning to think I’m not alone. I’m beginning to think there’s a bigger world out there than I know. Yes, maybe that world is filled with more of these giants. Or maybe not. But I was determined to go see.

I, in an amazing feat of acrobatics, managed to get up into the door. Betty, who always thought I was rather sluggish, would have been impressed with my dexterity and flexibility. But beyond the first door was another. And I couldn’t quite manage. I got a peak, I did, into a giant cavern perfectly geometrical. But I couldn’t get through. And besides, it was a giant empty cavern with no places to hide that I could see. I turned myself around and got stuck. I think, after all, I will take my chances here, even with the blond giant tyrant.

Bea Murphy