Sqeeky Toy©
Old Mrs. Crombone sat on the porch swing of her Scottish-Oak home, knitting a sweater for Boogles, her tiny Pekinese chicken, when the doorbell blasted through the air like a whip whipping the dead. Her knotted fingers barely able to grasp the sides of the swing, she hoisted her fragile body from the warm spot she had been perched, and started for the door. Boogles continued staring at the sun as his master scooted away. As she opened the heavy front door of her house, Mrs. Crombone was alarmed at what she saw. There, before her very eyes, was a grown man dressed in a diaper, doing summersaults and rocking to and fro on his buttocks, while making sounds like a space battle with explosions. "What can I do for you young man?", she asked the spinning abomination from hell. The man did not respond, not even aware that a question had been asked him. He just continued with his self-made circus of pleasure, now standing, arms outstretched, beginning to twirl like a top. "Wooooooo!", screamed the man, "Woooooooo!". To this day, Mrs. Crombone has no idea what the man was there for or why he chose her house to display his talent, but she learned something very important that day. Once the twirl's a'got you by the tail, there's no hope of escape.