Monday, September 17, 2012
The terreeble eendeegneety ob my libe
I yad a ba', ba', BA', BA' weeken'.
I was wash'.
Een the bath.
Weeth organeec senseeteeb shampoo.
All because ob a leedle messonderstandeen' weeth my forgheen' leeder tray whad ees abou' the size ob a hamstair's matchbarx. Har' to maneuber.
Forgh. The Wooman put me een the shower/bath. She close the door. She ees eenside there WEETH me. Y then she begeen' to feell the bath weeth WADHAIR! WARM WADHAIR.
Led me oooooooooooooooud, I beg.
She splash me. She sopa me. She reense me. My, you hab skeenny legs, she say, an' she GEEGGLE.
I cry. My eyes are blag.
Ad las' eed eees ober. She open the door y I maghe yompa y I sliiiiiiiiide across the floor. My pads hab no greep. She wash' away my tread! She close the door an' now she dry me weeth the yooman towel.
I swear badwor's...Wor's yu hab nebber read here.
Then she puts me ouside y my worgh begeens. My toes are wed. Deesgosteen. I shaghe my feed. I leeck. Leeck Leeck Leeck. Forebber.
Thad nigh she say to me, Estorbo you are so shiny y saft, I migh' wash you more arften.
Keess my forry ass, I say.
Oh, Estorbo she say. You are soch a bad temper cad.
To eemprobe my mood she eenforms me that I yam goeen' to the bed por a check orp arn Thorsday. Dr Slade want to know abou' my typhoid y how abou' my keedneys?
My happiness ees carmpleet.