SARA AND SQUEEZY…

SARA AND SQUEEZY

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Sara:  I’m Sara, and I’m the owner of Squeezy, our lone dairy cow who is now tapped out. Absurdly, she just filled her 5 millionth school milk carton. I’ve tried to divest and it just hasn’t worked. I first tried hydroponically resurrecting the results of my day job, that being a cliptress. Oh, sure, I sold to the 5 O’clock shadow and stubble industries but the growth rate just wasn’t there, even for the doll business. I also regaled others about my 360 chair adventures as Sara Ann Rap (aka Follicle), but it just didn’t cling. It’s now time to put the squeeze on our namesake.

Sara:  Squeezy, it’s time to finally go on a field trip.

Squezzy:  Oh, I love that, at last, I can truly say I’m now “Off The Farm”!  Can we swing by the ice cream factory or the cereal mill to see where my 4 a.m. output has gone?

Sara:  Well, perhaps, but first we’re going to visit a few places. This will be challenging, but it will be a new perspective for you-upright in the back seat of an economy car. Be on your best behooveior, we don’t need another Chicago Fire.

Squeezy:  Whatever do you mean?

Sara:  Mrs.’s O’Leary’s cow started that one, so don’t kick us into reverse.

Squeezy:  Feet planted. Momma, I’m back here astride these arm rests. But can you pass back a chamois or the map in the glove compartment?

Sara:  Whatever for?

Squeezy:  Well, I don’t want my world masquerading as the 3rd airbag; I am a lady you know.

Sara:  The entire state of Illinois should cover it. Now our first stop will be to visit a nice family. These will be short visits. I’ll simply drop you off, return and then you’ll give me a report of what went on.  I will drop you off to see the Platters. *An hour or so transpires…

Sara: How’d it go?

Squeezy:  Interesting to say the least. When I walked in they had me stand in the kitchen and then pulled out some sort of diagram and laid it against me. They then went on to describe my best parts (as if I didn’t know). I now know what beauty contestants feel like. They then proceeded to do the oddest thing. They changed full table settings several times. Seating 6, 8, 10, and 12 and then simply mentioning a barbecue.

Sara:  One down, two to go. We’ll now meet other friends of mine-the Ottomans…

Squeezy:  If the Platters were oddly numbered, the Ottomans were downright bizarre. Now, in another room, the sunken living room, they asked me to lie on my side like the family poodle. And, like that pampered member, I expected a little scratch, but, no. One positioned a chair across from me and stretched out his legs upon me. Then, this really flipped me out, one sat down against me with his back and stretched out his arms along my frame. He did keep massaging me with his hands which did feel rather nice though.

Sara:  Squeeze, here’s out last rendezvous. Do you like men in uniform?

Squeezy:  Don’t we all?

Sara:  Good. These fellows call themselves the pinstripers….

Squeezy:  And they say we ruralers are peculiar. These urban types need to get out more often. Nice boys, nice boys, and I will say I enjoyed the beauty spa treatment. They kept rubbing me down with what they call glove oil. They also followed it up with some sort of talc they called rosin. Now, hold the steering wheel tight. A select few, maybe about 10, kept putting their hands, really their fingers on me all sorts of ways. They kept alternating the distance between their fingers, and, the number of them too.  I thought they were remotely trying to treat me for sour milk. Lastly, this one weird bird fairly well dug his nails in me up to his knuckles. At that time I wish I was born a bull.

*A Day Later…

Sara:  Squeezy, we have one last appointment. It’s actually an RSVP for you. Those select few pinstripers have invited you, and you only, to help break in their new clubhouse. It’ll have new plush furniture, that dinner for those 10 and a ball signing afterwards.

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