
Uncle Mort, you fought in Korea, right? You think that war will start up again? Not if I can help it. It was the morning of July 27, nineteen hundred and fifty-three. I was pinned down on Pork Chop Hill. My bazooka had run out of ammo. All I could find to load into it was a stuffed panda bear. I loaded it and fired that bear into the maw of the enemy. It struck one of them atop the noggin. Moments later, the armistice was signed. Every July 27th, I awaken at dawn and chuck that same panda at the