Go to Wheaton they
said. It will be sunny, warm, and tropical they said. I have been taken for a
fool.
It is remarkable that I was duped so easily into thinking we were
escaping the bitter cold of Amherst only to find myself yet again in a
barren tundra known as Wheaton.
A few
soothing words from my father and the blinking lights and songs played by my
first mate were all that was needed to sate my suspicions. My resolve to avoid
such methods of deception will only grow stronger.
Aside from the weather debacle, I must say
that Wheaton has, to this point, turned out to be an altogether success.
I am
plied with all of the food I could ask for, and I have met a number of
individuals who shower me with attention.
My current environment has a bizarre looking man dressed in red
with a remarkable sheen of white
“face-hair.”
He is scattered throughout the house, and I feel he must hold a
place of great importance in this house. I believe that he will be an ally in
my cause, but I must investigate this peculiar man further.
However, I hope
that I do meet him soon, because I have learned they he also has a strong
predilection for milk.
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