Saturday, March 29, 2008

The week een peectures

Can you see me now??? I yam the blag theen' een the meedle. There ees carnstrarction two houses down an' I had to go to eenspeghd the worgh, eef you can call eed thad. My Meesers ees my hero (these theen's are onexpected bod can happen) - the carnstrarction worghairs (pleease see my leest ob theengs I hade) wor worgheen' (eef you can call eed thad) las' Satorday, all day, orlee, lade and we wor goin' loco. So she dial 311. No more worgheen' arn Saturday. Or maybe eed's a coeenceedence?

The Wooman was so afraid frarm me goeen' eento the buildeen' through a hole een the tarp thad she charged eenside our house to ged the bag ob pelleds to shake to call me bag. She torned aroun' een the keetchen to ron bag oud, bod I was already there. I can heear a pelled shake frarm two miles away, man.


Then one day lader she RAN OUD OB PELLEDS. Deesaster. She carmpensaded me weeth the las' ob the FEESH frarm Canada, whad Breegeet send. I had to make-a the feesh-dance fors'. Ees' exhausteen'...



...an' I had to poin' oud that there was an unwashed pan een the seenk. I leeb een squalor, man.


For gard's sake geeb eed to me!!!!!


Then she boughd a new bag of pelleds. Ohmygard. Fresh, cronchee, golden, delicious, dayeen' dayoud pelleds!!!!!! I danced all arn my own.

The End.

Stressful week


Sunday, March 23, 2008

Stalkeen' the Easter Bonny


I theenk I weell slow-cook heem weeth some mostard an' tarragon...
HAPPY EASTER EBERYBARDY!

Places I seet

The daybed, guardeen' my sabeen's...


The table, planneen' my negs' worgh ob ard.


The roop, wadcheen' the Wooman through the leedle weendow.

Spreeng cleaneen'


Hello? Wooman? Escuse me, bod thees bath needs cleaneen'. How am I espected to dreenk frarm thees???


No, reeally, I yam serioos...

Doan' meess thees corner!


I see sormtheen' ober there...

No resd por the weeary.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Sonday



Today is Sonday, so I yam resteen'.






Bod resteen' ees also berbery boreen', an' I hear eef you doan' exercise you ged depress' (an' also seeck), so I also went honteen' for peegeons...Now I yam happee! Joy! Joy! an' healthy! Joy! Joy!






Too moch cadneep, my Meesers says.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

My illustraded libe...


Beence, here ees the peecture you requested. The flyeen saucehair.


The Wooman calls this Traineen' Day. I am practiseen' weareen' sormtheen' anoyeen' roun' my negh, por the day when the CatCam arribes...


Thees ees me traineen' for the CatCam an' loogheen' forwar' to reepeen' the Netflighs pacghet eento shreds...

Friday, March 14, 2008

Led os geeb thanghs



Why/Porque?

Because my Meesers tole' me to: she say, Estorbito? I say, Yes? She say, Thees Speetzer-theeng has made me so depress', so sad. I beliebe een heem. I beliebe one day he mighd be preseedend. Reeal preseedend, nard como thees Torkey now. Now he's yos a forgheen' asshole.

Lighe Barack Obama, I say?

Whad? she say. Obama ees nard an asshole (as.far.as.we.know)!

No, I growl, Preseedend! Oh, yes, she say. Bod maybe he weell nard be preseedend. Americans doan' lighe eentelleegent people, an' he ees righd ob the chart.

Oh, I say. Steell: I weell vode for heem. You're a cad, she say, you can't vode.

WHAT?? I scream? Are you keedeen' me? Thees ees the guy who ees my leader! - an' I cannard vode for heem? No, she say, sadly, you can't. Your boice doesn't cound.

Sheet.

So, I say, whad essactlee are we geebeen' thanghs for?

I doan' know, cad, she says. I weell theenk ob sormetheen'.

There's always cadneep, I say, helpfully. Yes, she says, there's catneep. An' red wine? I add. Yes, red wine, she says. An' cheese? I say een my brighdes' boice. Cheese, she says: I mustn't ead cheese.

Oh.

Clean sheets? I say, tryeen' hard.

Yes, clean sheets are nice, she says.

Wait, IknowIknowIknow: SARDINES!!!!!!!

They're smelly.

I know! thad's why I lighe them!

OK, sardines.

An' spreeng? ...ees spreeng goo'?

It can be.

Dios mio. Help me oud here, Wooman.

Ok, OkOk: I gard eed. How abou' thees one???

BEENCE???

Oh yes! she says. Beence. I forghard.

Your forghard? Snaboudofeed!

....
.......................................

Thank you cad, she says, You hab been quide helpful.

You're welcarm, I say, There's a fors' time for eberytheen'.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

The Feeder Retorns

My deear frien's...hello. How goo' to see you all again. All twelbe ob you.

The Wooman was tryeen' to essplain to Beence the order day, about the Feeder. You see, she was kine' enorf to leab me ARN MY OWN por two days while she beeseeted Bancouber. For the order two days Constanza came to beeseet me an' feed me an' clean my leeder tray. Grazias por small mercies. Bod for the fors' two days eed was me, the feeder, an' a bowl ob water. Thank gard I lighe to read.

Anyway, she, the Wooman, tole Beence abou' a lairder I wrode, bag een the day (2003) to my deear an' esteemed frien' Ambrosius, een Cape Town. Seence he shorffled frarm thees mortal coil, eed has been hard to feell the conseederable gap lefd by his rotund an' deegneefied presence. Ambrosius himself had a staff: a housekeeper (bad tempered Wooman) and bodlar (ceebeelized guy), so he arcuppied a deefferent stratum een life frarm yours truly, Me.

Bod por your enjoyment I enclose the lairder. Eed was my fors' eencounter weeth thees carntraption. Try to onnerstand that, once, I too, was naive. Here goes:

From: EstorboLoco@cs.com [before my modernisation]
To: censor
Sent: 24 May 2003 00:51
Subject: Theengs


Deear Ambrosius

Eet has been long time seence I wrode, an’ por thees I apologice. My life has changed een some small bod seegneefeecant ways - even a tinee change een routine ees orpseddeen’, doan’ they realize thees?

Eet began weeth a feeder. I mean, a
feeder! Even the word horts my years. Feeder. Whad am I? A bord? A babee weeth a beeb? No. I yam Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana, hear me roar: Eeeeeeeeeeep. Bot despide thees obvious fagds, one day, the Wooman, one day, arrive home weeth a package. A beeg package. I ged essited: eet could be a feesh (they say thad an opteemeesteec additood keep you young. I doan’ know. Eet keep me frost-traded). So, no feesh. Flad theeng, como uno flyeen’ saucehair. Huh. I doan’ know whad ees thees, so I play weeth the barx eet came een, an’ I keel the barx.

Two days lader, my Meesers disappear. I KNOW she ees disappeareen’ por a sospiciously larng time, an’ before she goes, I stare ad hor. I follow hor. To the bathroom. I seet arn the floor an’ stare ad hor. I follow hor to the bedroom. I stare ad the bag. Yes, yes, I know you are goeen’, bod why, why? Porque you leave me? Am I nard goo’ denough por you? Ees my forr nard blag enough? Does my boice hort you years? Tell me, tell me,
whad have I done?

Een the end eed gets to my Meesers as eed always does, an’ hor eyes feel weeth tears as she strokes me through a crack een the door, while I pathedically stroggle to open eed from inside weeth my poor leedle lonely paws.

She leabs. I hear hor traitorous foodsteps descending the stairs. I heear the click ob the larck arn the downstairs door.

I am alone.

Thank blordy Gard, gracias a Dios. At last.

I dial 1-900-Poossies. Thees brief eenterludes are the only chance I ged to relags from the rigours ob being a ped. Six poossies arrive weetheen the hour an’ we pardy the nighd away. There ees only one prarblem. No neighbour Constanza arrive weeth refreshments as she usually does when I am abandoned een thees fashion by the yoomans. I call an’ cry an’ scream. I heear hor arrive home to hor apar'men' downstairs, bot NORTHEEN’. I mean, mos I ead air?? Bod I
smell sometheen’. I smell pelleds. An’ nard een the copboard, neither. Comeen’ frarm the flad flyeen’ saucehair wheech the Wooman has lefd arn the floor where my bowl ees. Hm. I smell them, bod I doan’ see them. I seet een fron’ ob the theen’ an’ I stare ad eed. I yam so hongree. I yam so embarrassed nard to hab food por the gorls. I stare. I theenk.

Ebentuallee I pray,
Pleease Gard, eef you are there, please feed me, I yam so
hongree.

I heear sound. Cleeck. I nearlee fained. Gard has leestened. Een fron’ ob me een the bowl wheech has miraculously appeared een the flyeen’ saucehair...pelleds. Golden brown, smelly, cronchy, deleecious, dayeendayoud, pelleds. I eenhale them. I forghed the poossies. Ees OK, they hab small energee bars een their han’bags (thanks a lard, gorls).

Nex’ morneen’ same theen’. Por a larng time I seet een fron’ ob flyeen’ saucehair an’ pray. Maybee two hours, then,
cleeck. Pelleds. I yam goeen’ to chorch. Por all thees years I leev een doubt.

Monday eveneen’ the Wooman ees bag an’ I canno’ wade por hor to weetnees the saint I yave become. Six o'clarck ees approacheen’. I yam hongree. I go to my place an’ I close my eyes an’ I start to pray. My Meesers say, Estorbo, whad are you doeen’? I doan’ open my eyes. She start to geeggle, an’ she call Constanza downstairs and say, Look at the Cad. Yeah, I theenk, you BEDDER loo' kat the cad because you are aboud to weetness a miracle.

CLEECK.

Northeen’.

There ees northeen’ een the bowl, Nada. Zeep. Rien.

Whad the forghe??????? Hello, Gard? Hello?

The yoomans are cryeen’. One ob them can barely stan’. So Ondeegneefied. Estorbo, doan’ you wan’ pellets? they cry. Are you kiddeen’ me? Whad do you theenk I wan’? The Wooman feed me frarm the bag een copboard. You are een lorf weeth your feeder, she say.

Feeder? Feeder. I see. I feel so beetter. Nard bairder, Beetter.

So thees ees the feeder. Thees weekend they go away again, I heear hor talkeen’. I weel eegnore the feeder onteel I heear cleeck. An’ I weel request peecneec hampers when I call the poossies.

Sometheen’ I wanted to ask you, ees whether the yoomans respegd your giben name. Do they address you as Ambrose or Ambrosius only? Perhaps because you are a cad of means, they do. I, being weethoud breedeen’ and independent eencome, canno’ pay to have Help. So I have the meesers. She take leeberties. Estorbo ees limited to ESTORBO, starpeet! Orderwise, eet ees Storbee. Storree-borree. Estorbito. Estorbofforo. Storree. Peeg. Blordy cad. Fad peeg. Storbos. Stor. When I renew my contragd I weel add a claws pertaineen’ to my addressment.

Enorf. I ope thees reach you. Many greeteen’s frarm Brooklyn.

Yours feleecitouslee’

Estorbo

Monday, March 3, 2008

Lighds, Camera, Heeeeeeeelp

So, today, I ged a piece ob news. Eef you wan' call eed thad. New? - si. Storf I wan' to hear? No. I doan' know. I yam confuse'.

Fors'. Beence...ees sendeen' me a geeft. Thad's nice. Ees eed feesh? No. I yam seeck ob feesh. I nebber wan' to see anorder sardine. No, eed's nard true. I yos though' I was begeeneen' to soun', you know...repetiteeve.

SEND FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH.

No. He ees nard sendeen' me a feesh. He ees sendeen me: a CATCAM! Oh. My. Gard.

I lorf eed! I hade eed! I lorf eed! I hade eed! I lorf...SNAB oud of eed, Estorbo!

OK.

The Pro's:

I can repord frarm the road: loogh! thees ees my carckroach honteen' ground; thees ees were I wadge the peegeeons; thees ees where I pee een the open; thees ees my order Wooman who leebs two doors down and feeds me feesh! -ie. I can SHARE weeth you.

The Carns?:

See aborf. Een order words, the end ob preebacy; ob secreds; ob freedom. Ob the American dream. Be who you wanna be?

No. Eed's ober. Eed's my Wadergade.

Plos: I weel hab to wear CLOTHES! eed mos' be attach' to a collar; especial snab-collar whad onsnabs eef I ged stork een sormtheen'...

We weell see whad we weell see.

No. You weell see whad I weell see.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

A cad ob many par's...


I belieb een eemprobeen' my mine', an' my spelleen'. Hence, I read. Thees ees a gread boogh abou' cheeckens. I lorf cheeckens. Nard only are they preedy weeth feathairs, bord they tasde deleecious, too.


Readeen' geebs me a headache. For thees I fine'a small glass ob Pastees is goo'. Reacheen' the bardle weethoud breakeen' the glasses ees nard easy. A lighd touch ees necessary. Fors' I toucghe the Wooman lightly, weeth a claw, then I say, Eeeep? An' she know: Oh! Eed's time for Estorbo's Pastees.

Easy.

Goo'bye.