Good Help Is Hard To Find {Wiggins/Linguini)
May 9, 2019 15:27:54 GMT -5
Post by Toad on May 9, 2019 15:27:54 GMT -5
Although, gentle reader, it has not yet been revealed what happened to Toad after his initial encounter with the local police department, you can be sure that afterward, he made his way back up the street, back to the place he found the motorcar. Our story begins there:
Toad looked about himself with interest. So this was America, what? Nothing like he imagined. The architecture was so fanciful. And it was deucedly crowded.
All this newness was very exciting, but it paled beside the facade that next met his glance.
"Why, it's Toad Hall!" It was indeed--there was the dining room window looking out onto the lawn. But where was the lawn? It was only a tiny patch, fenced off from the masses. The patch with his statue, though, that was a good thing.
However he got here, Toad Hall must have come along, too. It was the only explanation.
Without further delay, Toad hopped over the fence and opened the door. Yes, it was his very own dining room. What a relief to have his own home here with all its little comforts.
But as Toad continued his tour, he was in for a rude awakening. There was the dining room, the study, his bedroom, and something he took for the kitchen (not a room he frequented)...but that was all. Where the rest of the Hall ought to have been, the door opened onto a queue of the locals boarding a row of motorcars.
Toad shut the door on them and returned to his study to think. That lasted all of four minutes. This abbreviated version of Toad Hall was here, and he was here, and that was enough. At least he could live with some comforts about him.
Toad lounged in his chair with his feet up. It wasn't long before he began to want his supper. Which posed another problem: apparently this Hall did not come with servants.
He would fix that in a trice. Toad leapt up and made for the nearest newspaper office to take out an advertisement in the Situations Wanted section.
Toad looked about himself with interest. So this was America, what? Nothing like he imagined. The architecture was so fanciful. And it was deucedly crowded.
All this newness was very exciting, but it paled beside the facade that next met his glance.
"Why, it's Toad Hall!" It was indeed--there was the dining room window looking out onto the lawn. But where was the lawn? It was only a tiny patch, fenced off from the masses. The patch with his statue, though, that was a good thing.
However he got here, Toad Hall must have come along, too. It was the only explanation.
Without further delay, Toad hopped over the fence and opened the door. Yes, it was his very own dining room. What a relief to have his own home here with all its little comforts.
But as Toad continued his tour, he was in for a rude awakening. There was the dining room, the study, his bedroom, and something he took for the kitchen (not a room he frequented)...but that was all. Where the rest of the Hall ought to have been, the door opened onto a queue of the locals boarding a row of motorcars.
Toad shut the door on them and returned to his study to think. That lasted all of four minutes. This abbreviated version of Toad Hall was here, and he was here, and that was enough. At least he could live with some comforts about him.
Toad lounged in his chair with his feet up. It wasn't long before he began to want his supper. Which posed another problem: apparently this Hall did not come with servants.
He would fix that in a trice. Toad leapt up and made for the nearest newspaper office to take out an advertisement in the Situations Wanted section.