Little Freddie is crying and his mother asks him what is the matter.
“My turtle is dead mommy,” the little boy, sorrowfully tells his mother, holding the turtle out to her.
The mother kisses him on the head, then says, “That’s all right. We’ll wrap him in tissue paper, put him in a little box, then have a nice burial ceremony in the back yard. After that, we’ll go out for an ice cream soda, and then get you a new pet.”
“I don’t want you…” Her voice trails off as she notices the turtle move.
“Freddie, your turtle is not dead after all!”
“Oh,” the clearly disappointed boy says, “Can I kill it?”
