My Libe arn the Terrace

The lanlor' ees goin to keell the terrace becos frarm leaghs he nebber feexed proper before. Thees means Men een Boods. Carnstraction worghairs. Hell. I weell ron, I weell hide. Las' time I disappear por 24 hours an' the Wooman had to make rescue frarm abandon' beeldeen down the blarck. She carry me oud ob 4th floor arn rosty fire escabe weeth me arn shoulder. Berbery essiteen'...

So here ees me arn my terrace. Sheet.


Hmm, smells good....

Drorgs een spreeng are the bes'.

Roofcad.

Me arn my carpet.

I doan wan thees sheep arn my terrace!

Can you see me now?

Call me Feisal...
August: ees forgheen hart, man.

Happy borthday to me...

Whad??

Thees ees a yongle!

Sheet!

Ok, when's the party starteen'?

Whad the forgh ees oud there?????

Led me een!!!!

Led me oud!!!!

The Keeng.