Dick and Sally are alone in the house on a dreary day, and lack the imagination to make the most of it. In their place I'd be reading and happy, and the unwelcome intrusion of a noisy, attention-whore moggy and the horrible off-putting bounciness of Thing One and Thing Two would drive me to justifiable homicide, but these disappointing, passive little children do nothing. The fish has more personality. It's like a nightmare come to life.

I did like the rhymes though.