It was a fine sunny day when I took a stroll through the zoo with my stuffed puppy. Because, c'mon, who wouldn't want to stroll through the zoo with their stuffed puppy?

I passed by the lemur cage and heard a rattle. A lemur was staring up at me with wide, round eyes.

I regarded him with a smile. "Hi little lemur!" I waved. He sniffed the air and looked at my stuffed puppy. I held the puppy's paw and waved it. "Puppy is saying 'Hi little lemur!' too."

The lemur stared unblinkingly. Not one blink. For a moment, I wondered if those were really eyeballs or just two glorious marbles on his forehead.

Suddenly, the lemur leapt forward. With one unblinking eye focused on me, he held my gaze. Then he squeezed his body through the bars like silly putty through a set of rollers. It was the strangest thing. And all that while, that eye, that unblinking eye, kept staring at me.

Before I knew it, my stuffed puppy was gone. And the little lemur was cradling it lovingly.

"No! My stuffed puppy!"

The little lemur stared back at me, unblinkingly. I called the zoo security. They rushed over. I stammered on about how the little lemur stole my stuffed puppy. Bits of spit showered them. They called me a crackpot and threatened to throw me out.

"I swear! That little lemur somehow squeezed through those bars and took my stuffed puppy!"

"Why in the world were you carrying a stuffed puppy??"

My mouth gaped open. A random fly zoomed in. "Because I was strolling through the zoo!" It was an answer as plain as day. Why didn't they understand?

They grabbed my arms and dragged me away. I turned to yell at the little lemur, fists blazing. He sat there with my stuffed puppy in his arms. And stared at me with those damned unblinking marble eyes.