One Spring morning, Dora the Adorable Dormouse woke up with a familiar burning sensation in her nether regions.
This time, however, it was not a sexually transmitted disease that she could feel - it was a burning desire to learn all about doors!
'Why are doors?' Dora wondered, 'and when and where and how and what?' She had so many questions about doors, 'twas murdering her brain.
Doors, said her mother, were windows into the soul. If the window was a door and the soul was what was on the other side of the door.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" her father yelled. "Oh sorry dear, I was watching Harry and the Hendersons. I think orange peel is good for pores."
Her neighbour and occasional lover Geoffrey Rush was no help either. He was too busy jamming with his avant garde silence band Hushed Tones.
The other members, Tony Tardio, Tony Martin (comedian/actor), and Tony Martin (actor) were not much help either.
"Dora," said Tony, "we're not really sure what the best way to kick Geoffrey out of the band is? Should we do it hard/fast or gentle/slow?"
"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Martin?" asked Dora. "No way, you're a dormouse! That's sick," Tony replied.
"Who-a you calling-a sick-a," Geoffrey exclaimed in a bad Italian accent and moustache, "I quit-a." The rest of the band cheered.
But Dora the Adorable Dormouse still didn't know a thing about doors.
Dora looked low and high for anyone who knew anything about doors, but it didn't matter how many nangs she cracked. Nobody knew a thing.
"Maybe," her travelling companion Alan the Albanian Alpaca suggested, "the doors were inside you all along?"
"No," Dora explained, "they are an actual thing. You open and close them and they fill up doorways and provide security and keep in warmth."
Well, Dora never did find out what a door was, and Alan never did find his birth-mother, but they had a lot of fun along the way!
That is, I suppose, the moral of the story: When one door closes, it is closed. And then you can open it again. They are on hinges. THE END.