It Comes a Brewing

by Davey the snail

Oh man, oh man. It's gonna be a coming those two. Those two... Ah yes, Davey I am... I mean, my name, Davey... My name is Davey. I means to talk about them two, Harold and George., my neighbors.  Arguing over they stupid holes and stirring up some nonsense that we other folk want no business of. But no, oh no. Talk of the town now it is. Storm be brewing up ahead, it is. If it's half as good as Marjorie's stew a brewing, things might not turn out half bad. But I don't know, those two never get along nice. Serious, never did. I just hope they leave poor old Davey...that's me...out of this stupid hole mess. Doesn't help me, house being between they two holes and all...

The Other Hole

by Harold the other mole

My name is Harold. I am a mole. I live in a hole. My hole is very big because I dug it very wide and very deep. It is huge, it is lovely. But the other moles say George's hole is better. Why? Mine is bigger. And grander. So mine is best isn't it? I invited Marjorie over and she said George's hole was better too! The nerve, in my own house! So I slapped her. That really had her going. She whacked me across the head and I passed out (widely known fact female moles are much stronger than male moles). I woke up and Marj was gone. I hate my hole. I want George's hole.

My Hole

by George the Mole

My name is George, I am a mole. I live in my hole, it is next to the patch of purple tulips. I like my hole. It is cool and damp during the day but also warm and comfortable during the night. Do not ask me why this is so, it is my hole and it is perfect. Perhaps it is because I am special and that is why I got the greatest  hole there is. I love my hole, no other hole like it.