“Hello, new friend. My name is Fred. The words you hear are in my head. I say, I said, my name is Fred, and I’ve been…very naughty…
The story I’m about to tell, I tell you, I will tell it well, is of my dear aunt Muriel and just how I’ve been…naughty.
Voila, the farm. My aunt lives here with precious pup and husband dear. My heart beat fast as I grew near. I felt so nice…and naughty.
I thought just how excited they must be that I would come today. They’d shout, ‘come, Fred, hazzah hooray! Dear boy, you look so…naughty.’
That’s when my tired eyes beheld a doggie dog. Like dog he smelled. D-O-G is what he spelled, and that’s how I spell…naughty.
Alone was I with tender Courage and all his fur, his furry footage, which, I say, did enCourage me to be…quite naughty.
Courage, your hair…it reminds me of the first time I knew just how I felt about hair…
It was a day I do not forget-the day that I first met my pet. Oh, what a lovely gift to get. I’d never felt so…naughty.
My fuzzy friend is what he was, this darling little ball of fuzz. And oh, such fuzz, such fuzz, he does demand that I be naughty.
He looked at me, his fetching eyes, and fetching fur did hypnotize. I filled with joy, I filled with sighs, and that’s when I got…naughty.
Now, now..you shouldn’t play in the toilet.
This dripping hair, this droopy curl…unfurls sweet memories of a girl with tresses, oh, they twist and twirl and tempt me to be…naughty.
Barbara my love was named and her fair hair, a mane untamed, until one evening, I’m ashamed, I got a little…naughty.
The look upon my young love’s face was sweet and lace, but in this place, I realized she…needed space.
I nevermore was naughty. Well, maybe not never.
Dear cur, your fur and fleece remind of nothing found in humankind but for one fellow who did find me to be in a certain mood.
Into my shop he walked one day with bouche above and beard bouquet. That’s no toupee, I prayed. No Way I could help but be…you know.
I’d never seen such hair before. His bangs, they sang, his neck, it beckoned. Eyebrows, armpits-all were reckoned. Soon I figured ‘what the heck’ and guess how I was…naughty.
So ends our little story.
But then my landlords did presume to free me from that porcelain tomb and ferry to a private room, your hero, ever dotty.
Good-bye, dear aunt. I’ll miss your farm and Eustace’s ebullient charm. And farewell, Courage, what’s the harm if I was slightly…naughty?
With Love, Fred.