Our fourth and final story of the day from Mort.
I was writing in my upstairs study, having instructed my wife and daughter not to disturb me. Nonetheless, I heard tiny footsteps coming upstairs, the door opening. “One little kiss, Daddy?”
“No, Darla,” I shouted, “Daddy’s very busy. Later.” And then I heard the horrible flip flopping sound down the
stairs.
“Now, Darla, no later!”
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