The Fryderyk Orphanage

No sooner had the sky awakened, festooned with balloons, red, yellow, orange, purple, brown and green, did the moon fall into dereliction, the once dark night sky now a pageantry of glorious enormity. The man in the hat, awaking with a start, rubbed the night’s sin from his eyes, his face blanched, and exclaimed ‘never in my life have I awakened to such a glorious morning sky’. No sooner had the man in the hat stepped foot out of his lean-to than he notice a man in a hooligan’s hat walking sidelong across the sideways, the sun shining brilliantly on his earflapped head. ‘Never in my life have I seen such a strange spectacle’ groused the man in the hat, the sun shimmering like a gold coin. The Kangaroo twins came from a long line of philanthropists known for their generous spirit and generous generosity. Their great-great grandfather Boleslaw smelted nickel, donating the profits to the Fryderyk orphanage, home to halfwit children and imbeciles. Ludmila, the twins great aunt, owned a handbag franchise that sold sow’s ear handbags to dolts and halfwits, bequeathing the proceeds to a home for the downtrodden and dim. Their great uncle Zygmunt made millions on hedge funds, donating his commissions to the Podhale asylum for the criminally inane.