Last summer, Eleanor & I spent a week at our Grandma & Papa Wilson’s house with our Aunt Meg and our Great Papa. Our Great Papa kept telling us stories about his pet alligator, Allie, back in Texas. Nobody believed that he actually had a pet alligator except me. I mean, what if he did, and I’d been accusing him of lying this whole time?
But, he doesn’t anymore. Yesterday, Eleanor & I opened a package to find Allie’s head, and a note from Great Papa: “Allie escaped from his pen. He tried to cross the street, but didn’t make it. This is the biggest part left of him. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him. He was really a nice pet. Enjoy what’s left of him.”
Great Papa also gave us another note: "When you think of Allie the gator also remember Mr. Peanut.
Mr. Peanut sitting on the Rail Road track.
His heart was all aflutter.
The Ho9 coming around the bend,
Toot! Toot! Peanut Butter!"
But, he doesn’t anymore. Yesterday, Eleanor & I opened a package to find Allie’s head, and a note from Great Papa: “Allie escaped from his pen. He tried to cross the street, but didn’t make it. This is the biggest part left of him. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him. He was really a nice pet. Enjoy what’s left of him.”
Great Papa also gave us another note: "When you think of Allie the gator also remember Mr. Peanut.
Mr. Peanut sitting on the Rail Road track.
His heart was all aflutter.
The Ho9 coming around the bend,
Toot! Toot! Peanut Butter!"
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| Poor Allie's head |










