My weeken'

I ate the Japanese grass. Again.

I threw orp. Again.

Stay away, Wooman. Thees ees my grass now. You keep your weadgrass kaka. I'm warneen' you: my lefd hook ees muy formeedable.

Sonday morneen':

I lay een bed arn the Wooman's book.

Ees boreen' book.

So self-eenbolbed.

Eed made me tired.

I relaghsed.

I thoughd abou' the mobie I wadged las' nighd: Bolt.

Ees fonny.

Abou' a stupeed d.a.r.g. an' cad weeth brain.

I lorb Nedfleeghs.

Zzzzzzz

Maybe I shoul' be een the mobies.

I can play dead, too.

I yam ready por my close-orp now.