Front side of crumpled paper found at the bottom of Q's backpack:
"Q
"Donna
"Letter"
Other side, originally folded in:
"Q
"I know you are a smart child in the school. I think you are very asome."
And another, this time a letter addressed to Miss T Johnstadt, and accompanied by a roll of stickers, three State quarters, and a crisp dollar bill:
"Dear Granddaughter;
"Just a note to go along with the important stuff in the envelope.
"Blue is laying here guarding me. He is a killer dog. He kills things he doesn't like. Its a good thing he likes you & Q. He doesn't like rats & mice and skunks, and racoons, woodchucks, snakes, moles and some other tings. I think he likes you best.
"I love you too.
"Grandpa John"
In case you don't know about Blue, here's a picture, which I believe I posted here previously:
Yesterday evening after supper, Q climbed into my lap where I sat at the table and asked me to tickle him. I asked if he thought he could keep his arms raised while I did so. He said, "What will you give me?" I said, "If you can keep your arms up while I tickle you for one minute, I'll give you five dollars."
He thought about it, twitching spasmodically as he did so, and finally agreed. A couple of false starts later, he thrust both high in the air and, wild-eyed, began pre-emptively howling.
I tickled that boy pretty darn mercilessly as I slowly counted to sixty, and by God if he didn't keep his arms up the entire time. Wriggling, squealing, laughing screaming, wailing, writhing - and I never let up, even though I was laughing so hard myself that my stomach muscles still hurt today. I don't think I've ever laughed that solidly, for that extended a period, for decades. Janneke and T looked on in horror from the opposite end of the table, also laughing but also sympathetically suffering.
If that boy ever ends up a POW, he's going to pull a John McCain and spit in their eye as they string him up.
Except when he comes back, he won't turn into a jackass.
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