The rucksack must have become uncomfortable during the night and they found their way out. But they only made it a few steps to the side, to the rolled-up yoga mat. There I found them in the morning. L’Artiste staring depressed into space, Mitzi squinting up at me, I don’t know what she is thinking, but she seems to be okay as long as she has a lap to sit on. I have to admit, I am not particularly good with depressed puppets, so pretended I didn’t see them as I walked past on my way to the kitchen. Monkey, who was right behind me, stopped and told L’Artiste in clear words he should snap out of it. Life is hard for everybody. L’Artiste said lamely, “Leave me alone, I want to wallow in my sorrow.”
Monkey shrugged his shoulders. “Ah well then, you can’t be helped!”
And I thought: what happened to my poor Dedes? They were such a fun bunch to have around. I really have to engage them in new projects.
dedepuppets 