Fleas Go Home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe

Daddy wasn’t just a magnet for strange characters.  He beat the bushes to flush them out.  If that hadn’t worked, I believe he’d have up tacked up posters.  Mother had no way of anticipating who he might drag in for supper, overnight, or until further notice.  I never did understand why she didn’t murder Daddy.  He must have slept sometime! Continue reading

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