Texas, home ob Meester Boosh, shoots a Keetty

OK. I lorf bords. They fly, they tasde goo'...bod the only bords I see are peegeons. Rattons weeth weengs, essept por Jesus.

My Meesers read thees story to me, an' I was lighe, Oh my Gard, they shoot the Poossy??? They mos' go to jail! Then she essplain that the keetty was catcheen' the smallbords thad are dangerous. Sorry...Hendangered. Que? I said. No mas smallbords one day, she hesplained. Oh, I said, thad's bad. No more snags. Tase' como cheeps, I theenk. Flyeen' cheeps. Cheeps that cheep. Heheh. Barbecue flabour een Texas?

Whadebber, she said.

So ees eenteresteen'. Who ees righd, who ees wrarng? She deed say she woul' keel someone who shood me.

Thanks, I said, I yam so comfortaid.