It was my third operation, I believe, that my parents tossed me to bed with a heave. I stayed there, for quite a while, receiving presents, with a guile. I stayed, and stayed, played, and played, until one day I seemed very gay, for my father strolled in with a smile, that was spread across his chin. With him he had, under his arm was a new bike, red was its charm. More of a tricycle I will say, because my dear reader three wheels, it had lay.
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