Little Red Hen Stuff
I finished a chapter, a real tear puller. Sue my wife, screamed, “No, No No. You can’t kill her. You can’t kill The Little Red Hen.” I chuckled and said “We’ll see.” I knew I had her then--hooked bad-hooked deep. Suddenly my little story meant something to Sue at least. You know Sue is my wife. I have tried to impress her for forty years or so with little success. But my writing has got her, at least to the point of tears when drunk.