sweetest little lisp, between two missing teeth,
"Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle wabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets
down on his knees so that he's on her level and asks,"Do you want a
widdle white wabbit,or a thoft and fuwwy, bwack wabbit, or maybe one
like that cute widdle bwown wabbit over there?"
She, in turn, blushes, rocks on her heels, crosses
her little arms, leans forward and says, in a tiny quiet voice,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"I don't think my python weally gives a thit."
