Long did I wander. Some called it a walkabout, some called it a lockout, but I remember. I remember, and I will never forget. It was mostly dark, and cold, and there was all this white stuff on the ground. That was when they told me football was going to come to a close, with millionaires fighting billionaires.
At last the white stuff left the earth, and tender shoots burst forth from the ground, the sky became lighter again at last. Still I wandered, long did I wander. I wandered my native Yuma Hills, and hunted my elusive morels as only I can. Everpresent in the breeze was the whisper on the wind that there would be no football. Some were angered, and some were sad. The angry ones swore they were done. The sad despaired of the ruin of the game. I prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.
The seasons turn, as they have a way of doing. The great heat came, it rained fire from the bright disk in the sky and cooked us to a near parbroil. Still I wandered, long did I wander. I wandered the shores of the great Lake Superior, and in the coolness of her majestic waters I beauty, I found solace, content, and peace. Even upon those waves, in which I found many a treasured agate, I heard the question gently lap about me, will there be football this year?
Today I hear the word deal. It is good that the millionaires no longer war with the billionaires, this is a good thing. I only wish to see my Lions. My wandering will not cease, but it brings me great content to see my Lions. So I ask, is it safe to come out now?