Swirl’s Chewed Things: Reports of His Demise

Hello. I am Swirl.

I am not sad or woebegone. I am fine.

My head is quite dented, I will admit. If people still carried pennies around, they could put them in my dents. Then whenever they ran into a gumball machine and I was there beside them, they’d be ready. Except gumballs cost more and there aren’t any. Milk Bones would fit there, too, but for what purpose?

I like sleeping on the floor in front of the fan. I like my fur fluttering. I lean my face against the fan because I want all the cold air to blow on me. Only me. Maybe the others are hot.

In closing, I would like to say this: I am dented. But I am not dead.