SYRACUSE POST-STANDARD, November 11, 1975

By Audrey (Kentuckypine)



THE MORE I THINK about it, the more I'm convinced
I'm not the only one living in a "weird world.''
I read in the paper recently about this fella who's making
a killing selling "pet" rocks. Yep, you read correctly .
.. "pet" rocks.

I figure if he can do it, so can I. So today I am officially
opening a new business. I'm offering all kinds of goodies
— at modest prices, of course, — for people to adopt for
pets. I figure if he can get $4 for a rock, I should be able to
get at least $10 for the garbage can.

THE FIRST "PET" is the couch in the living room. Just
think of the stir you'll cause when you take it for a walk.
.. that is, if it holds its stuffing long enough for you to get
it out the door. This "pet" may be in need of some paper
training.

And there's the lovely typewriter I'm pounding on at
present. While I will admit it might be a bit cumbersome
to carry around in your handbag, think of all the fun you'll
have teaching it to ring its bell, space and, for the really
adventuresome among you, it can even be taught to capitalize.
That is, when the shift key works.

THE MORE I LOOKED around, the more things I found
I have to offer to the persons who want a nice quiet little
friend to talk to. There's a three-legged (originally four)
coffee table. It has lovable spots just like our favorite canine,
but these are mostly caused by cigarettes and spilled
milk.

If you really want to be the talk of the town, I can offer
you a genuine, one-a-kind, mint condition storm window
that I have been trying to get Don to install for a year
now.

This guy thinks he'll make a killing with his rocks.
Well, I bet I can outrock him if I really tried.

AND I CAN OFFER all sizes. They range from the
small ones brought in by the beasties to make up for lost
checkers to the medium size ones that once graced the
aquarium to the giant economy size that I always manage
to find in the lawn when I'm busy mowing.

Of course, there's always the tiny ones — to be offered
at a reduced rate in pairs, especially if you have a small
home — that inevitably wind up in my shoe when I go out
for a walk or a shopping trip.

THERE ARE THOSE that will undoubtedly try to buy
the rocks the beasties claim I have in my head, but they're
not for sale.
After all, what a dull day it would be when I shook my
head and didn't hear those little clanking noises inside my
skull.