Grandpa's Advice -1
It was a beautiful summer day, not a cloud in the sky, and Bernie Jones was doing his favorite thing. He and Alex were in a part of the neighborhood known as Snake City, creeping as quietly as possible through the tall grass. Already they had caught six red racers. Each time they caught one, they held it up, admired its sleek brown body and thin red stripe, and debated whether or not they had ever caught this particular snake before. Then they would turn it loose and watch it slither away in the grass.
They were just about to catch their seventh snake when suddenly Alex reached out and grabbed Bernie by the arm.
“Oh my gosh Bern, I just thought of something. Something really bad.” His eyes were wide with the beginnings of panic. In his partially opened mouth was a huge pink wad of chewing gum.
Bernie, who was by nature sympathetic to the feelings of others, especially his best friend, felt his heart sink. “Uh oh,” he said. “Did we forget to close the front gate again?” In his mind’s eye he saw the Appleby’s dog, a Dachshund, running away on his tiny feet and Mrs. Appleby having to drive all the way across town to fetch him from the dog pound ... again.
“Nope, that’s not it,” said Alex.