(no subject)
"I'd walk a mile for a Camel," the ads say.
Major Hill has just walked a mile with a Camel. Pushing the silly thing inch by inch back to the airfield on the outskirts of a little French town whose name he can never remember, Something sur-la-Wossname. Cursing the Red Baron under his breath all the while.
His ground crew is extremely annoyed, and he can't exactly fault them for that, but there's only so much twittering a beagle can take. Especially ninety years before Twitter will be invented.
It's times like this that a beagle needs a drink. Fortunately, there's a little cafe in town that serves a really good root beer.
Unfortunately (?), the cafe isn't there when he walks through the door...
Major Hill has just walked a mile with a Camel. Pushing the silly thing inch by inch back to the airfield on the outskirts of a little French town whose name he can never remember, Something sur-la-Wossname. Cursing the Red Baron under his breath all the while.
His ground crew is extremely annoyed, and he can't exactly fault them for that, but there's only so much twittering a beagle can take. Especially ninety years before Twitter will be invented.
It's times like this that a beagle needs a drink. Fortunately, there's a little cafe in town that serves a really good root beer.
Unfortunately (?), the cafe isn't there when he walks through the door...