A Visit from the Ghost of Squeaky Toys Past

Chuck Billy killed stuffed animals to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. The fluff was strewn about the house. Chuck Billy knew he killed it? Of course he did! How could it be otherwise? Chuck Billy knew the squeaky toy was a shell of its former self. And even he was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, that he solemnized it with nothing more than a grunt. There is no doubt that the stuffie was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. 

Late one evening as Chuck Billy quietly sat alone in the darkened living room, he heard what sounded like a squeak of a toy. Yet the sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above, and in the cellar below, appeared to have a separate peal of squeaking echoes of its own. Chuck Billy was not a dog to be frightened by squeaking. Picking up a stuffed animal, he slowly walked across the room, mumbling as he went, “I must have missed one of Asa’s toys. Bah Humbug!”

After several turns, he laid down again. As he flopped back on his dog bed, his glance happened to rest upon an unusually large teddy bear in the room. It was with great annoyance, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw the bear started to advance toward him. “Humbug!” said Chuck Billy, “It is only Asa, dressed like a fool.”

“How did we end up in this other room?” asked Chuck Billy, as annoyed as ever when he realized he was no longer on his warm bed. “What do you want with me?”

“I am the Ghost of Stuffies Past.” replied the bear.

“No, you’re not! You’re just Asa, bothering my much needed rest.” 

“I am not! Any resemblance is pure coincidental,” said the bear momentarily forgetting his well-rehearsed lines. “I am the Ghost of Stuffies Past here to teach you a lesson about the power of kindness and redemption!” 

“Stop it. I know it’s you in that ridiculous Halloween costume.”

“Regardless, can you just please stop killing my squeaky toys?” replied the flustered Ghost of Stuffies Past who skipped many lines in his monologue.

“Bah Humbug!” replied Chuck Billy as he settled in for a nap. 

“I should have known a theatrical literary lesson would be wasted on you.” sighed the Ghost of Stuffies Past.

“Sorry Kermit, I guess our big song and dance number for the finale will have to wait for a more appreciative audience.

Kermit: “Bah Humbug!”

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About the author

Chuck Billy is a Golden Retriever, living in Southern Maine, who likes to share his unique observations on life with his little brother Asa. When not writing his blog, he spends his days being awesome.

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