So…I have this problem, and it began with a friend and a book and the fact that my Grandma might have been part peach.
One of my enduring memories of that tiny, wonderful woman is her oh-so-soft, wrinkled, down-covered face. She was tiny and twinkly and beautiful and I loved her to pieces. Fuzzy pieces. And thanks to some quirk of genetics, I’ve inherited the fluff. Yup. I’m a WolfChild. Or just peachy – whichever!
Normally that’s not an issue, because it reminds me of her, but lately something’s been bugging me and I decided to do something about it. And then I had an accident with a book (which was Mandi’s fault) and then…well…*hangs head in shame*…it all got stupid.
Fortunately it also got FUNNY. And I know few people so adept at FUNNY as Joy, of ComfyTown Chronicles. So that’s where my story is (watch out for the bits near the end where I fell asleep whilst writing!).