I yam Zen.
Eben though I yam honghair. Eben though I yam the boid, the beeg, blag empteeness. Eben though I yam populaded een my stormarch by leedle Estorbitos: worn honnered y forty leedle Estorbitos who are also Honger, the collecteeb Boid, the small bod loud Empteenesses, always cryeen' por food.
So whyporqueWHY does the Wooman, the cruel, eensenseeteeb Wooman, put ou'side where I can see eed...a GOOSE?
She say, The keetchen ees full, Cad, y eed ees nice y cole' ou'side, y the goose mos stay cool while I yam makeen' spaze por Thanksgeebeen' Deenhair...
Bod there ees spaze eenside me, I say helpfully. I yam the Boid.
She loogh ad me, you know, scrutinizeen', tryeen' to read my mine'. Bod my mine' pure.
Como snow from Heaben.
Your heart ees blag, Cad. She say.
No keedeen', I say, I yam a blag cad. I YAM THE BOID!
Whadebber, she say, waid por deenhair.
So I waid, I waid. I yomp arnto the stone table y I doan' eben look at the forgheen' bird, I mean boid...forgue. The boid contemplades the boid.
Ees berber' deep.
(So ees the boid. Endless, full ob leedle hongry, cryeen' Estorbitos)
I waid.
Ad deenhair I seed ad the feed ob the yoomans, occasionally rafteen' (thad ees anorder story - thank you por your patience) como usual, y they feed me p e q u e n o pieces ob the goose. Ees ber' deleecious. The leedle Estorbitos are silen' y go to sleep, porreen', por seex whole meenutes.
...
Y now? Terreeble news. I go to the bed. Ved. Bed. Whadebber. He measure my typhoid lebel again. The Woooman weell essplain abou' the boid. Because always I yam hongree. Ees terreeble.
I yam honghair.
Ees there a peell por thad?
Neghs weegh they leab me. Always, I yam lefd. Senor John ees cormeen' to loogh after me. Maybe I weell geeb heem the leedle Estorbitos. I can care por them no more.
Maybe he weell breeng me a keetteen.
I yab always wanted a keetteen.
I yab larst my keettens.
The leedle Estorbitos are nard keettens. They are my borden.
hope you are OK Estorbo. You must have enjoyed the pieces of goose, even if they were pequenos! So glad you got through that hurricane safe and sound.
ReplyDeleteWow, Estorbito, I don't think I really realized until now that you were a thinker...
ReplyDeleteThe void contemplates the void, abyssus abyssum invocat, that's brilliant!
I have given much thought to your deep piece of contemplative reflection, Don E.
ReplyDelete.
.
.
.
...and I conclude that someone should clean the mirror.
Estorbo, we will have some raucous parties while the folks are away to lift you out of this dark, contemplative mood. Too much thinking is not good. We can invite Coco over for drinks and dinner if you like. There will be magoes, Doritos, and Señor Coconut, but no kittens unless you invite them. Entertainment responsibilities and an attractive dinner companion will take you mind off your stomach.
ReplyDeleteOh, John seems to be the perfect holiday sitter for you, Storbito! Banish the void. Snacks with Coco will be so much more exciting. And, of course, we'll want a full report.
ReplyDeleteomg !! we loved this post - & Storbie sounds like you & John will have a most excellent time. Wish we could stop by. Oliber, Birgil & beeg, blag BleetNessie
ReplyDeleteExeestentialeesm..eeep!
ReplyDeleteStorby, I am with you, and have felt it myself: a keetteen. But being the Head Honcho, would you put up with a keetteen? Time will tell. As for now, try to be like Miss Alice. She is almost unrecognizable with age, yet she fills the void with purring, and becomes younger everyday. A miracle, in the void.
ReplyDeletetoo deep for me ..... but, now I'm hon... uh...hungry so I'm off to find something for breakfast.
ReplyDeleteHey Estorbo -
ReplyDeleteI got a keeetten for ya. My peoples brought home a 9 month old brat from the shelter - oiy! She is REALLY workin' my last nerve! I sell you Molly really cheap....oh, what the heck, I GIVE you her....please?
-Lucy, THE top cat.