Fred Wilson sat at the dinner table reading his paper.

"Your four-year-old son ran away from home today." Emile stood watching -- waiting for a reaction. There was none. Bobby wasn't paying any attention either. He appeared to be listening. Suddenly, he jumped up, ran to the door and opened it. His mother watched in amazement as he closed it and returned to the table.

"What was that all about, young man?"

"Just letting my doggy in," was the reply.

"Fred! God Damn it, pay some attention, will you? Our son runs away from home, some old bum brings him back, and you just sit there reading. Now he thinks that he's got a dog -- Fred!"

"What dog? Where? Emile, you know we can't have pets. He looked up just as Bobby was putting his bread under the table. He could hear whining and some gulping, but when he looked under the table, he saw nothing not even any bread.

"What's this about a dog?" he asked his wide eyed son.

"Old Ned in da park gimme a puppy. He said I kin keep him, if I keep him in my Magic Nation. He said only kids kin keep live things in their Magic Nations. He said grownups get blinded by responsibility and constipation and pretty soon, ain't got no Magic Nations."

They heard a scratching at the door. Bobby jumped up,

"Bye Daddy, gotta let Spot out. It's okay, he's potty trained to go outdoors."

[end]