Zero percent down and no payments for a year

Charlie scribbled on our fitted yellow 100% Egyptian cotton bed sheets with a black ink pen this morning. Jill was taking a phone call behind the closed door of our home office. I was "resting" in a sleeping bag down in the basement next to the tent cot. My sleeping is what Charlie knows as resting.

We had been on a safari. This means we turned out the basement lights, Charlie crawled up on my back while I took him on a horseback safari adventure. We encountered dinosaurs and cows, frogs, polar bears and bald eagles. We came across a prairie dog town which we were forced to bulldoze in order to break ground on a new safari tourist hotel. Since the groundbreaking only had taken place today for the new accommodations, we were left with only one option -to camp in the chilly night air. Surrounded by a wolf pack whose glowing eyes were as numerous as the holes in the pegboard which the previous owner of the house decided would look good to finish a basement with, we could only pray for morning light and hope above all hopes that the fire would keep the wolves from devouring us.

The cover of the blinding darkness emboldened all the ugly creatures. We listened to clicking, buzzing, slithering, tapping, traipsing, humming, dripping, and howling sounds. Somewhere, miles above in the top of a muzzle tree, nested a pair of howler monkeys whose thundering voices sounded like bickering spouses. Gloating over the whole of the forest above was a magnificent moon. A coyote moon. H.W., the juvenile howler monkey, disappeared into the forest canopy unbeknownst to his parents. He joined the Aye-Aye several trees away who was too busy looking for grubs to give H.W. the time of night. With the aid of his prehensile tail, H.W. swung from branch to branch. He felt alive as the damp air whooshed past his face and flattened his fur against his body.

"Never again am I coming back to this muggy hell. I am going to the city!"

H.W. found his way to the coast, where he stowed away aboard a Norwegian Cruise Ship on a course to San Diego. Eventually, he came to Des Moines where he became the activities director for an assisted living community.

Jill yelped when she saw the graffiti on the bed sheet. Charlie and I scrambled to the scene.

"Did you do this, Charlie?" Jill asked.

"Yes, I did." He said proudly.

Hesitantly, Jill asked him if he had drawn elsewhere.

"I DID!" He said. He beckoned us to follow him to the opposite corner of the foot of the bed where he had made similar marking.

"Here!" He said.

At least his prints were symmetrically placed.