Here's a toy somebody donated to the thrift store today. Made of rock-hard plastic, it's about twelve inches high. I was going to make a joke about how unsurprising it was that it looks brand new, since no one could have ever played with it ... but now I feel kind of sorry for ol' ... Horno. Or Zeetmo. Or Splacko. Or whatever in the world the poor thing's name is.
(Oh---for the record, nothing on little ... YowTao moves, or anything. And that weird slanty circle thing on his stomach isn't a button, or anything you can turn or anything. It's just ... that.)
I don't know what kid this toy used to belong to, but I sure do feel sorry for him. Or her. Or it.
Comment once you've stopped crying here.
Have something to say about this article? Leave your comment via Facebook below!
Recently by John Shore
- The Good Shepherd, Fences, and Other SheepSunday, April 29, 2012
- Stars of the Old TestamentWednesday, April 25, 2012
- The Burning of Resentments: A new faith tradition born?Monday, April 09, 2012
- "Grab the Feet of Jesus": A Sermon by Pastor BobSunday, April 08, 2012
Recently on Crosswalk Blogs
Add Crosswalk.com content to your siteBrowse available content