Reason not to be a tiny alligator in Cuba: if found, you will be stuffed, whole, glued/sewn (it’s unclear, really) onto a purse bearing some other creature’s stretched-out skin, and sold for sixty bucks by a woman named Irene who makes hurricane jokes.
Reason to get a landline: you’ll get to press this baby to your ear and slide-dial each number individually and hear that satisfying little re-wind click every time the dial re-sets itself. Each phone call will come to feel like a little ceremony, celebrating the magic of telephone wires and long-or-any-distance contact. Which is what we’ve all been looking for all along, I suspect.
Reason to be a plaster duck: look at all the friends you’ve got. You’re positively surrounded. And all you’ve got to do all day is sit there on that lavender tablecloth and absorb admiration-rays from passersby who will, no doubt, admire you fully and completely not only for your physical attributes, but also for your usefulness. Just think of all the things that could be put inside your carved-out back. Marbles. Hair items. Coins. Nuts. Tissues. Some sort of combination. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, plaster hollow-backed ducks. Remember that when all your friends get bought-up and you’re the only one left on that cold lavender table-cloth at the open-air market.