It is absolutely beautiful outside today. Sunny and 82 degrees. The only downside to this early warm weather, besides the looming concern of global warming, is that it is once again time to bring out the mower. My mower is electric. I plug it in like a vacuum cleaner, tune in to the 90s summer Pandora station, and move around the yard in a predetermined pattern to avoid running over the cord. No gasoline, no oil, and no real upkeep. I love my mower, despite the fact that it draws skeptical glances from the neighbors, and occasionally trips me or gets tangled around the basketball hoop.
The true tragedy is that there is no sequel. Billy Monkey's lethargy doomed us all to a lifetime of wondering "what if." What if we had learned how riddles work? What if Billy had shared his knowledge of the cow/ghost combination?
Billy Monkey, you dropped the ball on this one.