blank'/> The Libe ob Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana: April 2014

Monday, April 21, 2014

I am beesy

I yab been beesy.


Fors', I farm eenside.

Secon', I farm ou'side. Weeth the forgheen bords.

The Wooman say I mos tell you abou' tesds. I when to the ved two weeghs ago. Beeg forgheen' deal. A whole day een car, ad ved, ad home again, por whad? All because I throw orp my pelleds twice.

Eberytheen' ees A-OK. My blord, my pee, my heart, my forgheen' longs. EBERYFORGHEENTHEEN' worghs goo'.

Dr Slade geeb me a toy, see the leopard-spart?

Bod the trauma. The Wooman needs to ged a TB. Nard enorf entertainmen' een her libe so she mos creade drama...Or ees thees the only way she ged to see Brookleen, weeth me in forgheen ambulance?

Seeck, seeck.

Neghs time led them sorgh oud YOR blord, I say.

So. Bag to farmeen'. The bords laugh ad me. The dorfs, the house feenches, the forgheen red cardinal. Then there ees the bor' whad soun's como the Wooman's waghe orp alarm. The whide throad sparrow. Eep, eep, eep.

I am theenkeen' ob recipes por bords. Maybe I wride a recipe boogh.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Cad grass

I waid, y I waid, y I waid.

Ad las', she say, Cad! You may ead!

So I ead! Ees deelicious!

Then she hide ead frarm me. Porquewhy? Ees my grass.

Ad nigh' I cry por my grass. While the yoomans sleeb I corcle the table como un shargh, y I maghe eep como Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana.

She say I keell ead.

Bod ead is MINE to keell, I cry.

She say eed mos "recorber."

Forgheen' grass.