It's 8:34 a.m. , and it's time to feed the turtles. Every day, I pick up a coin and flip it to see if they get Turtle Chow, getting stale in a big bag that I bought when there were more of them, or some fresh food: the day's remains from the bug zapper. Food in hand, they approached me.
I hot glued LEDs on their shells, so it's quite a display at night. Alf is easy to recognize by his trot. There's a little skittle in his left hind leg, due to an accident that took place a hundred and thirteen years ago. Dr. Penrose documented it - an earthquake had collapsed a wall on him! He was lucky only his leg was fractured a little. No other Turtles feel like coming out of the water. They are sitting in a row ignoring me, and so it continues. Turtle feeding is a ritual passed down from my predecessors. It's really all I know how to do.
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