Two Courageous Uncles Sleeping to the Beat A Short Story by Anonymous Robert Johnson looked at the minuscule hat in his hands and felt sparkly. He walked over to the window and reflected on his dirty surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned Sleepford with its zealous, zesty zoos. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sparkly. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Phil Malkovich. Phil was a modest saint with skinny toes and vast fingernails.
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