The little girl next door was an avid “Beatle” fan, both the shaggy-haired and the crawling type. She was as happy with her record collection as she was with her “bug” collection. I was very surprised, therefore, to see her looking so sad and on the verge of tears one day and I asked her what was wrong.
“My praying mantis died”, she said sorrowfully.
“Oh, that’s too bad”, I said, comforting her, “How long did you have it”?
“Twenty minutes”, she said.
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