The Dire Prognosis

It is somewhat disconcerting, after all these years, to think that I might lose not only my job but also my home. Sad as it may be, I predict at least a 50-50 chance that, in the not too distant future, my services may no longer be needed in my current work environment.

It's not that I haven't been busy. In fact, the past eight years have found me very much in demand. At times I have had more customers than I could accommodate. Nothing or no one in the immediate vicinity is able to perform my job quite like I do. You might say I am built for this job--and I have worked faithfully and diligently at it for a long time now.

Let the record show that I have executed my duties despite considerable abuse. I have been climbed, mauled, and kicked. I have endured an abundance of pounding and caterwauling. I am often left in a total mess.

This is not my first time to be uprooted. In fact, it was just about eight years ago this summer that I was shoved into a garage in an undignified manner and stuck with a totally demeaning price tag of $15. Luckily for me, a nice lady named "Googie" came along and adopted me. She gave me a good bath, and gave me my own corner of her kitchen.

She got a good deal. I come from good stock, the Fisher-Price line. I needed very little training, and never produced a mess of my own making. I have been caught many times, however, with egg on my face as well as on my other various body parts. Still, I have stood tall, kept quiet, and never snitched on any of those little rascals who tried to make me look bad.

Just look at this innocent face:

I ask you, do you think I should be forced to leave my happy home here at Googie and Pa-pa's? Or, worse yet, subjected to another garage line-up?

I will admit I am worried. My sixth customer is just about to turn two years old, and already his legs dangle way down past my foot-rest. Is it my fault he is such a big, healthy kid? Already I have heard him say he wants to sit at the counter with my five other former customers. How quickly they forget.

So as you can clearly see, my future is at best uncertain and at worst in utter peril. Unless there is soon evidence of a seventh grandkid for Googie and Pa-pa, I am toast, and I don't mean the kind that is permanently petrified in all my nooks and crannies.