On my stroll, I looked down at the strange

On my stroll, I looked down at the strange markings construction crews put on the pavement. This mark is for a gas line, that one, for sewers. Why is there one for hot chocolate?

and a few minutes with my everlasting gobstopper. I'd named him Nummy and kept him in a leather pouch worn around my hip so my gobstopper was never far away. A man named Slugworth

approached me and whispered:'There are never enough gobstoppers in this world to save you from the humhums son.' Shocked, I stroked Nummy and wondered what humhugs were. And how

dum-dums are even still in business. Tiny things, they're pretty hum-drum. Not any bigger than my thumb. They're not even worth giving to a bum.

I'll tell you of my secret, of why I hate dum-dums. It started way back when I grew up in the slums. I licked that lolly and my tongue just wound up numb.

I guess you could thay I lollygagged. My tongue never recovered, which isth with why I now talk like thith. I wath thutch a dumdum for thucking it for too long. Tho here I am now

with a thprained tongue that maketh me look like I thould have "thucker" thtamped on my head. I'll thue that lollypop manufacthurer if it'th the latht thing I do. The firtht

that decorated the coast was a good place to place the action of some fairy tales. And this magical world was always a good place to escape from the daily routine. But was it magic

enough for the fairy tale I wanted to tell? I opened my notebook and wrote "Once upon a time..."