CALL ME SNAKE

I just got back from Plymouth, Massachusetts and have a rather disturbing announcement: Plymouth Rock is missing. Gone. Kaput. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there’s no cause for alarm. But while driving past Plymouth Harbor this morning, en route to Plimoth (sic) Plantation, I did not see Plymouth Rock. In the spot of ocean where I expected to see a rock, there was nothing. Well not actually nothing. There was seawater all right, but no sign of a rock. So I have to conclude it’s gone. Unless the tide was unusually high. Or it got shifted during the last Nor’easter. Or I was looking in the wrong spot (unlikely, as I am normally a dead-on marksman). The main thing is not to panic. I might be mistaken. Still, it’s best to keep our eyes open, in case it turns up in an unexpected spot. In the meantime, I’m out looking for a replacement. And I might just pop it in sometime soon, when no one else is looking. If I do it quick, under the cover of night, most folks wouldn’t even know it was missing in the first place.