Post-Modern Bedtime Stories
“This?” says Evie.
“Wolf.”
“This,” she says again, pointing at the page.
“Wolf,” I sigh.
“This!”
“Wolf!”
“This?”
“Belle. She’s being attacked by those three wolves. She’s also the little trollop scamming on the Beast.”
“Un-huh.”
Beth chortles, verbally exhibiting her unacceptance of my artistic license.
“Well, that’s what you get for telling her I have boobies,” I retort.
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