Most all, creatures want a partner to share their life. They don’t know how, why, where, when or IF this will happen. Sometimes they meet in the third grade, sometimes in the twilight years, and sometimes never. At any rate, life goes along, they go about their business, they work, they play, and they learn to live with themselves. Such is the case with an endearing character, a taxi driver known as Mr. Turtlety.
Mr. T lives in a Florida canal on a houseboat in Mewville Beach. His neighborhood is his family and aalthough he is welcome and visits everyone often, he is lonesome. One night he was playing Go Fish with the guys when the subject of meeting girls came up. Clarence Devine, Mr. Turtlety’s best friend, said, “Well, Dorothy and I met as half grown kittens. She was and is the prettiest and smartest cat in the world so I never wanted to meet anyone else.” Danny Mole told Mr. T.
“Actually, I liked Mrs. Mole’s sister first, but she married someone else, so that’s how I ended up with Diane.”
That only left Larry Pitbull at the table, “I just follow my brother around, he always knows how to start conversations with good looking dogs.”
When he got back on the boat, retired to his hammock and looked up at the stars, he thought, “Why doesn’t someone want me? I think I must be ugly, stupid, boring or just not a nice tortoise.” He lay awake most of the night thinking.
The next day Mr. Turtlety changed some things. The first thing he did was ask all his friends to call him by his first name, Everett.
“Now I know it will be hard at first”, he said, “but that’s okay, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I will always answer to Mr. Turtlety.”
Rita Squirrel In particular thought this was a great idea. “My second husband always called me “Squirrely” which I detested. First names are so much more personable.”
After Rita’s seasoned advice Everett reasoned, “This should definitely make me more approachable.”
“Uncle T, if you’re trying to meet girls, you have to know how to dance”, Rita’s granddaughter Suzy Squirrel piped in.
Suzy and her best friends, Timmy Mole and Ernestine Devine, volunteered to give him dancing lessons to the best of their third grade ability.
“My parents used to fox trot,” said Everett.
“They what?” said Ernie.
“I only know modern stuff,” said Timmy.
“I guess you will have to find a fox if you want to learn that,” giggled Suzy.
Poor Everett, he seemed to have four left feet, and with the additional issue of carrying around a shellhouse, learning to dance was a struggle.
The next course of action was to make himself more attractive. He drove his taxi to Grama Catbirds Nail and Claw Spa for her help.
“Why, yes Everett”, Grama said, “We could certainly provide a few beauty treatments to soften your appearance a bit. Your claws and beak need some attention, and you might want to think about a new service we now have that would really make your shell stand out.”
After a facial, beak trim and claw polishing, Grama led Everett to a brightly lit room in tthe back of her shop, the tattoo parlor.
Three hours later, Everett climbed gingerly into the driver’s seat of his cab with a beautiful portrait of a sailfish on his back. He thought the leaping fish to be the most exciting choice the tattoo artist offered. Next stop was the JMart to pick out a new bow tie and matching hat.
“This is the finishing touch”, he thought as once again he eased into his vehicle.
It was getting dark as Mr. Turtlety just happened to drive by a red and blue neon sign that flashed: !!DANCE HERE!!
The steering wheel seemed to turn itself into the parking lot. As he lumbered up to the big double doors he peered inside. Pretty chicks lined the walls in chairs and dudes were wandering around talking to each other and standing at the bar drinking thirty six different kinds of fruit smoothies whipped up by the shorts-clad Squirrel twins, Susan and Sharon. A few couples were swaying to music.
“Holy moley,” he thought. ”This is where I need to be.”
“Hi fellas, hi gals, my name is Everett, and I’m a party animal.,” he said as he entered the building. The ladies were impressed with Mr. Turtlety’s tattoo and bow tie, but they were delighted when he busted into his hip hop moves, the “ happy feet,” the “whip my hair” (without any hair), the “wave” and “hinge kick.”
Everett ended up getting and giving phone numbers from eight girls and gave three of them rides home free of charge.
“The evening was a smashing success,” Mr. Turtlety later told his friends at their weekly card game while answering his phone. Larry decided to go with him to the next Saturday night dance.
Moral: Never under estimate yourself. You might be popular and not even know it. (God probably does.)
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