blank'/> The Libe ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana: Arn the roop ad nigh'

Friday, September 7, 2012

Arn the roop ad nigh'

I yam the cad arn guar'. Eef eed mobes, I weell keell eed. 

Sormworn is rossleen' my caddle.

Spread' the wor': Estorbo means beesnees.


  1. I for one wouldn't dare steal your caddle...! :)

  2. Watch out Estorbo ees on da prowl!

  3. you are one freekin' amazing cad
    xoxo Virgil, BleetNess & Oliber

  4. Yu look so handsome on your perch. If you don't scare away the rustlers, they will surly fall in love with you!

  5. "Me encanta el amo del universo"-
    signed, wikirustler

  6. There must be something going on in the tri-state area.
    Two nights ago, Henry hopped up on our bed with a (nearly) dead mouse and dropped it proudly on the sheets.

    I did manage to praise him before I hopped up, grabbed it with a tissue and disposed of it. It did take a while to fall back asleep...

    Perhaps he could come down to NYC and be Estorbo's back up.

  7. You are a very handsome gargoyle, Estorbo. Sorry about your caddle...I really can't imagine anyone else wanting them.

  8. My beloved upriver neighbor called early yesterday to alert her personal posse--about ten folks (artists, watermen; a retired ambassador, etc.) who do any bidding she suggests--that Sasha had fallen out through a screen during a powerful storm and disappeared!

    The subject of our frantic search is of the anti-Estorbo variety as although I have been to this friend's home many times, I have not met the incorrigibly timid Sasha--who has never been outside in her five-year old life.

    With our friend's howling wails driving us to search frenzy, we looked high and low along the river and in the marshes, but no Sasha. What to do?

    We ventured further into the woods, removing ourselves from sight of the house in the process. Soon another wail from the direction of the house, this one a shout of sheer delight!

    Emerging from some hidden location near the house, Sasha raced into the house with ears pressed flat against the back of her head, and with frightened eyes shining like two unblinking silver dollars, she raced under a bed and would not emerge to even thank her rescuers.
    (Actually, I think she was just waiting for us to leave the porch area so she could re-enter, in peace.)

    Estorbo would not think much of Sasha, I fear, but I do believe our hero values one (my friend) who "so loves my little Sasha."