Our childhoods weren't exactly... consistent, as the judge might have you know. Life seemed to be a myriad of staples and tortoises, with one exception.
Every week it came roaring through our steam pot, it's toenails in tow. It was a joy, truly the light of our pitiful little existences. It was probably the highlight of my childhood, barring of course the handkerchief incident. Yes, it was the Gravy Train, and oh, what feathers did it drink.
But I remember one Sunday, when everything imploded.