HOME | DD

Description
Every Flurble, Slapple, and Dippy-Dangle in Flabbleflibbletonville has a parent or two.
Some are tall, others are short. Some are blue, some are red, while still others are pink. Some parents are workers, making great Yabble-Habble buildings. Others are writers working on the books.
Some are drivers, driving the Tribble delivery trucks. But, sometimes, even though there are safety precautions, some children loose there parents.
Look at Tommy Fibbtonbottom. He plays gurgle ball with his dad. But, your gurgle mitt has grown dust. And your tears leave a trail of sorrow through you cold, cold, lonely house.
Sally Smithington eats fresh Upple-berry cookies made fresh by her mother. But, the gnawing hunger felt by your empty stomach grows every day.
What is to become of you? There is no place that can take care of you here. If you have no tall parent, no pink parent, or no working parent, how are you to survive?
If no one will take you in, you must work. What you say you are too young? Nonsense! What is that? You claim the loss of your parents is too great a task to undertake on a psyche as delicate as yours, and that this kind of acceptance is harming? Are you a communist?
Come, watch Randy Thuabblesmith help his dad work in the garage. See how helpful he is to his living parent. But you, you must work in the mines.
You must work where the light is so limited that your deepest, darkest thoughts come to life as you slowly toil away into nothingness amongst the bleak, bleak future.
Or, you could make a living making the world famous Ebble-Thorpe sweaters in a sweat shop. There, the merciless abuse from the foreman is enough to suppress any sadness that one could feel from the loss of their only family.
But, if that is not enough, you could run away. Just leave your home and travel to some far off city, all the wile disgracing your family, you honor less, worthless person. Good luck.

The End