The Walrus and the Carpenter wanted to discuss whether pigs had wings. What a pity they hadn't met me! I'm the original winged pig, and on a good day I can even fly quite well.

The Walrus and the Carpenter wanted to discuss whether pigs had wings. What a pity they hadn't met me! I'm the original winged pig, and on a good day I can even fly quite well.

The Walrus and the Carpenter wanted to discuss whether pigs had wings. What a pity they hadn't met me! I'm the original winged pig, and on a good day I can even fly quite well.

The Walrus and the Carpenter wanted to discuss whether pigs had wings. What a pity they hadn't met me! I'm the original winged pig, and on a good day I can even fly quite well.

Lucy Love Bug has been in therapy for quite some time now because most of the planet blames her for their relationship problems. What fools those humans are! They rush headlong into relationships, with nary a wit of sense, and then attribute it all to being "bitten by the love bug." Lucy would give anything – her left antenna, two of her feet, her right wing – anything at all – to expunge that horrid expression from all human speech and thought. Seriously! Lucy doesn't even have teeth; and even if she did, she isn't a biting sort of pet.

You can't imagine the stress Lucy experiences when people think she has bitten them. First comes the mooning and swooning. The forgetful, erratic behaviour. Smitten, bitten? It’s downright embarrassing to even be associated with such utter foolishness. Then comes the drama. "I love him, but he doesn't love me." "She doesn't understand my needs." "He has commitment issues." "We have different love languages." The weight of it is simply too much for Lucy to bear.

Lucy has taken up art as a hobby because her therapist said she needs to release her pain. To be exact, Lucy relaxes by painting skyscapes. Clouds, unlike humans, can be relied upon. They gather moisture, weep rain when they get too full, blush when the sun is getting up or going to bed, and otherwise just float aloft, minding their own business and not blaming anything on love bugs. Lucy often muses to herself about the many virtues of clouds.

Lucy has also taken a keen interest in the search for extra-terrestrial life. Maybe, just maybe – oh, cherish the hope – maybe there are other planets with other species. Sensible life forms with clicks and clues, who appreciate love bugs. Nice aliens like green ladies who guard the galaxy and win fights or little boys who live on desert planets and grow up to hate everybody. If such planets can be found, Lucy Love Bug hopes to relocate and get some relief from the strain being blamed for so many romantic woes.

Lucy Love Bug has been in therapy for quite some time now because most of the planet blames her for their relationship problems. What fools those humans are! They rush headlong into relationships, with nary a wit of sense, and then attribute it all to being "bitten by the love bug." Lucy would give anything – her left antenna, two of her feet, her right wing – anything at all – to expunge that horrid expression from all human speech and thought. Seriously! Lucy doesn't even have teeth; and even if she did, she isn't a biting sort of pet.

You can't imagine the stress Lucy experiences when people think she has bitten them. First comes the mooning and swooning. The forgetful, erratic behaviour. Smitten, bitten? It’s downright embarrassing to even be associated with such utter foolishness. Then comes the drama. "I love him, but he doesn't love me." "She doesn't understand my needs." "He has commitment issues." "We have different love languages." The weight of it is simply too much for Lucy to bear.

Lucy has taken up art as a hobby because her therapist said she needs to release her pain. To be exact, Lucy relaxes by painting skyscapes. Clouds, unlike humans, can be relied upon. They gather moisture, weep rain when they get too full, blush when the sun is getting up or going to bed, and otherwise just float aloft, minding their own business and not blaming anything on love bugs. Lucy often muses to herself about the many virtues of clouds.

Lucy has also taken a keen interest in the search for extra-terrestrial life. Maybe, just maybe – oh, cherish the hope – maybe there are other planets with other species. Sensible life forms with clicks and clues, who appreciate love bugs. Nice aliens like green ladies who guard the galaxy and win fights or little boys who live on desert planets and grow up to hate everybody. If such planets can be found, Lucy Love Bug hopes to relocate and get some relief from the strain being blamed for so many romantic woes.

Lucy Love Bug has been in therapy for quite some time now because most of the planet blames her for their relationship problems. What fools those humans are! They rush headlong into relationships, with nary a wit of sense, and then attribute it all to being "bitten by the love bug." Lucy would give anything – her left antenna, two of her feet, her right wing – anything at all – to expunge that horrid expression from all human speech and thought. Seriously! Lucy doesn't even have teeth; and even if she did, she isn't a biting sort of pet.

You can't imagine the stress Lucy experiences when people think she has bitten them. First comes the mooning and swooning. The forgetful, erratic behaviour. Smitten, bitten? It’s downright embarrassing to even be associated with such utter foolishness. Then comes the drama. "I love him, but he doesn't love me." "She doesn't understand my needs." "He has commitment issues." "We have different love languages." The weight of it is simply too much for Lucy to bear.

Lucy has taken up art as a hobby because her therapist said she needs to release her pain. To be exact, Lucy relaxes by painting skyscapes. Clouds, unlike humans, can be relied upon. They gather moisture, weep rain when they get too full, blush when the sun is getting up or going to bed, and otherwise just float aloft, minding their own business and not blaming anything on love bugs. Lucy often muses to herself about the many virtues of clouds.

Lucy has also taken a keen interest in the search for extra-terrestrial life. Maybe, just maybe – oh, cherish the hope – maybe there are other planets with other species. Sensible life forms with clicks and clues, who appreciate love bugs. Nice aliens like green ladies who guard the galaxy and win fights or little boys who live on desert planets and grow up to hate everybody. If such planets can be found, Lucy Love Bug hopes to relocate and get some relief from the strain being blamed for so many romantic woes.

Lucy Love Bug has been in therapy for quite some time now because most of the planet blames her for their relationship problems. What fools those humans are! They rush headlong into relationships, with nary a wit of sense, and then attribute it all to being "bitten by the love bug." Lucy would give anything – her left antenna, two of her feet, her right wing – anything at all – to expunge that horrid expression from all human speech and thought. Seriously! Lucy doesn't even have teeth; and even if she did, she isn't a biting sort of pet.

You can't imagine the stress Lucy experiences when people think she has bitten them. First comes the mooning and swooning. The forgetful, erratic behaviour. Smitten, bitten? It’s downright embarrassing to even be associated with such utter foolishness. Then comes the drama. "I love him, but he doesn't love me." "She doesn't understand my needs." "He has commitment issues." "We have different love languages." The weight of it is simply too much for Lucy to bear.

Lucy has taken up art as a hobby because her therapist said she needs to release her pain. To be exact, Lucy relaxes by painting skyscapes. Clouds, unlike humans, can be relied upon. They gather moisture, weep rain when they get too full, blush when the sun is getting up or going to bed, and otherwise just float aloft, minding their own business and not blaming anything on love bugs. Lucy often muses to herself about the many virtues of clouds.

Lucy has also taken a keen interest in the search for extra-terrestrial life. Maybe, just maybe – oh, cherish the hope – maybe there are other planets with other species. Sensible life forms with clicks and clues, who appreciate love bugs. Nice aliens like green ladies who guard the galaxy and win fights or little boys who live on desert planets and grow up to hate everybody. If such planets can be found, Lucy Love Bug hopes to relocate and get some relief from the strain being blamed for so many romantic woes.