No. 348.—The Speke’s Pectinator.

Once upon a time there was a Speke’s Pectinator who lived near the town of Holhol in Djibouti. Now, you’ve probably heard all kinds of stories about Speke’s Pectinators before, because you’re just the kind of boys and girls who like to trip up a poor old lady who’s just trying to make a few extra bucks on the Internet by telling educational stories, and you’re going to write in the comments about all the things I got wrong about Speke’s Pectinators, but I don’t think so, not this time, because I looked them up in Wikipedia. So this Speke’s Pectinator was wandering through the shrubby shrublands of Djibouti when he met a Pelzeln’s Gazelle. And the Pelzeln’s Gazelle said to him, “Oh, please, could you pectinate for me? Because I’ve never seen anybody pectinate before, and it would just about make my day.” But the Speke’s Pectinator said, “No can do, because I don’t pectinate for just anybody, you know.” And the Speke’s Pectinator continued on his way, and he met a Grevy’s Zebra. And the Grevy’s Zebra said to him, “Say, would you pectinate for me? I’ve heard a lot about it, but I’ve never actually witnessed a live performance, so to speak, and it’s my brithday next week.” But the Speke’s Pectinator said, “Not this time, buster, because I don’t pectinate for just anybody.” And the Speke’s Pectinator kept walking, and he came to a Ferruginous Duck. And the Ferruginous Duck said, “Hey, you must be a Speke’s Pectinator, and I could use some pectin for my guava jelly. Would you pectinate for me?” But the Speke’s Pectinator said, “Amscray, bird, I’m tired of everybody asking me that.” And I could go on like this, but I think you all get the point, and it turns out the Speke’s Pectinator never did pectinate at all. Now, isn’t that a shame? But it just goes to show you. This story teaches us a good lesson, which is that you can’t make assumptions based on people’s appearance. Like everybody thought my uncle Stu looked like a fireman, but the one time our house caught fire Uncle Stu was the first one out and he didn’t come back until Aunt Emma went down to Krzrnski’s Cafe and dragged him off the barstool and made him call the insurance company. And that’s the lesson we learn. Next time we’ll hear the story of the Patagonian Mara who lived in Duluth, and I’ll bet I get comments about that one. Till then this is your old friend Mrs. Cheswick saying clean up your room, and that should make people stop saying I’m a bad influence on kids, shouldn’t it?