Because I am never good at beginnings, I write words that never make it from my mind to my mouth. They slither to hide under my tongue, like medicine I pretend to swallow, as I speak words that are mine but never came from me.
This is keychain Elmo, that laughs when you press his tummy.
Tinker used to get scared when he hears his laughter, however, these days, both dogs would tilt their heads and look at it or make a grab for it. (thus the scruffy look for the red guy)