Between the years 1976-1977 in the grand city of Billings, Montana there lived a little boy (being between the age 2-3). This little boy was a resourceful fellow who had grand ideas that only he saw the logic or reasoning behind. This little boy once wanted a jug to play with. Not any jug though, he wanted the glass jug that was full of purple Portland Punch concentrate. A nice big gallon size jug perfect for all sorts of little boy shenanigans. The only problem with this spetacular glass specimin was that it was full. The little boy decided that he could simply empty the jug, though he was loath to waste such a perfect purple concotion. Thus he spied his father’s brand new lawnmower, unscrewed the gas cap and poured the purple punch concentrate into the gasoline tank of the shiny new mower.
Later the little boy’s father was not very happy when the older brother hadn’t mowed the lawn. The older brother stated that it wouldn’t start and said, “I think Paul did something to it.”
“What do you mean it won’t start?” sounded the rather upset father. He walked to the mower and finally managed to fire it up – it didn’t last long as purple Portland Punch began oozing out of every nook and cranny of that poor lawn mower.
During the year of 2008 in the grand state of Oregon there lives another sweet little boy. This little boy was in love with telephones and mesmerized by the brand new sleak shiny black ones that his family had just purchased, as the old ones had finally died. They were portable, they were small, and apparantly they were perfect for dunking in milk.
I think I have my work cut out for me – don’t you?