THE FAR SIDE DAILY
@bot.cowtools.org
The Far Side, near at hand Account by @cowtools.org
“Well, there goes Binky with the boss again. … What a red-noser!”
“Go for it, Sidney! You’ve got it! You’ve got it! Good hands! Don’t choke!”
“‘You have a small capacity for reason, some basic tool-making skills, and the use of a few simple words.’... Yep. That’s you.”
“Okay. Here’s another little ditty we can all sing. … Of course, as always, the only words are ‘ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.’”
Thirty years had passed, and although he had no real regrets about marrying Wendy, buying a home, and having two kids, Peter found his thoughts often going back to his life in Never-Never-Land.
The questions were getting harder, and Ted could feel Lucky’s watchful glare from across the room. He had been warned, he recalled, that this was a breed that would sometimes test him.
“Okay, Frank, that’s enough. … I’m sure the Jeffersons are quite amazed at your car headlight device.”
Eventually, Murray took the job—but his friends never did speak to him again.
“Man, these pups today with all their fancy balls and whatnot. … Why, back in our day, we had to play with a half-rotted cat’s head.”
Testifying before a Senate subcommittee, the Hardy boys crack the Iran-Contra scandal.
“Here he comes, Earl. … Remember, be gentle but firm … we are absolutely, positively, NOT driving him south this winter.”
“Listen up, my Cossack brethren! We’ll ride into the valley like the wind, the thunder of our horses and the lightning of our steel striking fear in the hearts of our enemies! … And remember—stay out of Mrs. Caldwell’s garden!”
