Mr. Bimble swiftly strode up the mountain trail in gigantic steps. He swung his walking stick about as if he was a super hero massive in height and long in limb. However, Mr. Bimble was nothing of the sort. To picture Mr. Bimble doing any sort of swift walking just days ago would have been a fantastic feat. For Mr. Bimble was a stout, round fellow with legs low to the ground that bowed out and a belly that confidently swung to and fro when just shuffling along. His arms were so short that often it was exasperating for him just to reach an itch on the back of his wrinkled, flabby neck.
But today he seemed like a giant of the wood. He hiked powerfully along as his large belly bounced with vigor and his arms flew up and down propelling him on a blanket of pine needles. His green eyes sparkled in the dappled sunlight and a slight grin settled on his round face as he climbed higher up the mountain.
* * *
Catherine looked over her husband's shoulder and let out an enormous "tut".
"Mister Bimble?" she exclaimed. "Why do you waste your time writing such nonsense when there are mouths to feed? You are, by far, the worst husband a woman could receive. Do something worthwhile with your talents, for pity's sake."
Charlie tore the page away, crumpled it, and tossed it to the bin. He dipped his pen and began to scratch furiously: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
Opening: Donna Galanti.....Continuation: Anon.