Pippy Pints, the petite purple panda, was perfectly perplexed. “Perhaps,” she pondered, as she peered at her family’s portrait, “I am adopted.” This possibility brought a mix of perfunctory pain and a pessimistic point of view. Preposterously, her parents and siblings did not share her purple pedigree.
Pippy padded across the polished pine floor, and pulled out her pink and periwinkle case. She packed her peach pyjamas, plum party dress, and a pair of panty hose. She picked up the picture and her pet puppy Pickles, and proceeded to depart.
Pippy’s pesky brothers, Peter and Paul, were playing a prodigious game of ping pong, and paid no heed to the purple panda’s departure. Her parents were preparing pizza; with pepperoni, peppers, and parmesan cheese, and were getting their pans and produce from the pantry, when their petite princess parted from the pagoda.
“Perhaps they’ll be pleased that from now on they will have the perfect panda portrait without the possibility of a prepubescent purple imposter posing along side.” Pippy plodded along the popular path, and proceeded to pass by her preferred park. Peering passed pillars and play ground toys, the pint sized purple panda purposed to put up her paws and plan her next place of refuge.
Pippy patted her pet puppy Pickles as she sat perched on the park bench pondering her predicament. At this point, she promptly peered at the Pints portrait. Her paws perspired as she bemoaned the painful position that she was not a perfect panda. She felt panic stricken that she would be permanently out of the presence of her parents. The Pandora’s Box of emotions produced pools of tears in her petite panda peepers.
Presently, a pink polka dotted hanky was proffered to the despondent purple panda. Pippy paused before peering up at the portly panda beside her.
“Poppa Pints!” Pippy yelped, both pleased and apprehensive to see her plump grandparent.
“Pippy.” Poppa replied.
“A...a perfect day to play in the park?” Pippy pronounced, presumably postponing Poppa’s potential reproach.
“Perhaps,” purported Poppa. “Pack any good playthings?” He peered over at the pint sized panda preferring to pepper his speech with compassion.
Pippy’s poise lost its’ panache, as she slumped over her panting puppy.
Poppa changed his approach and pulled the pouting panda into his protective embrace. He then proffered Pippy’s preferred fruit in his left paw. “Persimmon?”
“Please.” Pippy whispered.
They took pleasure in their pieces of persimmon in perfect silence. When their paws were pristine Poppa began to prod.
“Pippy, please tell Poppa Pints why you attempted to depart.”
“Oh Poppa,” Pippy peeped, “It isn’t possible for purple pandas to be a part of the populace, as we lack perfect panda pedigree.
“Poppycock, Pippy!” Poppa professed. “I perceive purple pandas should be proud of their predisposition, and neither act as prey nor predator to public or personal opinions. Pippy, you are our little prize pearl, perfectly painted by the Master Potter, and I wouldn’t change one purple patch of you.” He punctuated his point by a pat of his paw on Pippy’s purple person.
Pippy smiled pathetically, presuming to accept her Poppa’s speech. “I apologize Poppa for causing you pain and displeasure with my disappearance. I presumed I was not part of our panda family, and purposed to depart. Presently, I perceive my position was problematic. Purple is part of my personal package, in which I should be appropriately proud.”
“Pleased to hear it Pippy!” Purported Poppa Pints, now puffed with pride at Pippy’s mature perception. “Perhaps now you’ll put off causing me to panic and my pacemaker to palpitate princess?”
Pippy and Poppa held paws peacefully while other petite pandas played pleasurably. It was only then that Pippy Pints, the petite purple panda, perceived the purple patch of fur on the palm of Poppa Pints’ paw. Perhaps purple wasn’t so problematic after all.
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