Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I'm Honored, Madam.
Little tigers (you call them "cats"): "What compels you vile humans?"
Minimules (you call them "rabbits"): "Man, why you gotta go messin' around with my stuff?!"
Goats: "I'm a-gonna stand on your 'barrow, I'm a-gonna nibble on your rake. I'm a-gonna chew on your shirt sleeves, gonna make all the trouble I can make . . ."
Chickens: "DRrrrrrrrrr? Blurbleblurblebreoccckkk." (I never did quite master their peculiar dialect.)
Me, Fenway Bartholomule: "I am honored by your attention to the rearrangement of my leavings. May they bless your garden soil."