Pinky DeLong sat on the wrong stoop as he beckoned the day. He celebrated his sun, as she had begun to conquer the moon again. He yawned as she dawned and she beamed as he leaned on the brick post at the fore of his bed. While he languished in her glory, she passed the third story and rested at the top of the bank. Then his eyes met the wagon, the eight-eyed dragon whose pious reverence was only for him. So with a smile on his face and his morning wad in place he expectorated the morning at them. Then scratching as he pleased he rose to his knees and gathered his bed to his back. He walked rather bent, yet smiled as he went enjoying the thrill of another day. His body filled with mirth as he delighted in the birth and his victory over the frozen world. For the joy that life lacked, his love would bring back when he woke to her morning kiss. He felt her warm at his side and deep down inside off walked Pinky DeLong.