Deceit

 Ees carnspeeracy.

Por many weeghs now...mornths? - the Wooman has been gebeen' me deleecious snag twice a day. Fors' I hear raddleraddle, an' I corm ronneen'. Then I hear craghlecraghle, an' she prepares the tread. Then she geebs the tread to me. Ees ber' goo', como teghsture ob peanod botthair weeth flabour ob cheecken.

Then the Wooman leab. Weeth suitcases. Ees serioos.

The Smoothman stay. Maybe she no ligh heem and me no more? We are lefd behine'. Like dargs by the side ob the road. Dargs - she no need them.

Bod I heear raddleraddle lighe usual. Craghlecraghle. The Smoothman geebs me my tread. Bod the shape ees deefferen'. Was roun', now eed is pentogram. I chew, sospicious. I tasde sometheen' terreeble. I SPEET!

Ees forgheen' peell.  Eenside tread. Heedden.

Ees decepcion. Corber orp.A beil ob ontruth.

Now I mos' as' myselb. Ebery tread has been a lie?

Whadebber. Now I know.

When een doubt: Speet.

My geeft

Arribed een a barx frarm Meester Frank. My own personal No Dargs sign. Kaka. I pud eed arn the terrace een case ob roofdarg. You nebber know. You wan' worn, you talgh to Senor Frank.

Pee Ess. The Wooman ees leabeen' me y the Smoothman. I doan' know why. I doan' know eef she corm bag. Maybe we wor bad. She say' my howleen' por agua NOW ees dribeen' hor loco. She taghe hor labtarp weeth hor y I mos' lorn to use the monster belongeen' to the Smoothman. Ees carmpleecaded. Bod ad las' I weell hab a reeal photographer to taghe my peectures. No more ob thees amateur sheet. OKOK she's OK. Bod the Smoothman ees BREELEAND. He capture my essence.

PeePee Ess: She clean' the terrace!!!!!! Now I know she read my blarg! Jaaaaajajajajajaja.

The truth weell sed you free

You know The Woman has a blarg, yes? I had a blarg fors'. Then she carpied me. Ees my idea. Y hor blarg ees abou' hor "byoodeful garden". Yes? She wride abou the blueberries, the strawberries, the feeg, the rose' flowers...muchas flores blablabla. She taghe peecture ob preedy terrace, the terrace becorm famous, eed go' arn corber ob booghs?

Well, eed's time to see the real peecture:

Thees ees how the garden loogh'! Hello? Ees embarrasseen'. She ees porpotradeen' an ontruth. Dios mio, how she ged away weeth eed por so larng I doan' know.

So I say: Clean the terrace, Wooman. Because I blosh por you. I blosh. Onder my forr, my skeen ees peenk.

The keeng ob the bed

Photo: Smoothman

Keessy-keessy?

Estorbo's fear

Dios mio. I yam reech! We can pay por more blord tesd, y bed veesseet (eeeeeeeep), y peells, y parckets...

I yam so lorcky to hab frien's who are sendeen' me geefts. I cannard beliebe eed. The Wooman weell helb me paw-wride the cards to say gracias, muchas, muchas gracias. Ebery leedle beed helbs. The beeg beets helb, too! I promeese to pose' more to try an' be an entertaineen' cad.

So I though' I woul' star' by telleen' you sormtheen' you doan' know abou' me.

My Fear......ob Death.

Translation por yoomans een parentheses (beeg wor' yes? I know I yam so breellian'. Gracias).

1. The Blag Death (fly screen door. I bang my forgheen' head een the sommhair when eed ees close'! I yompa frarm the roop to the table to the terrace to the floor to the BAM!: the b l a g   d e a t h)

2. The Whide Death (mosquito ned ober bed. I HADE eed! ees eenbeeseeble y I ged tangle' y smothair to death)

3. The Sorckeen' Death  (forgheen' bacuum cleanhair. I ron, I ron)

4. The Howleen' Death (forgheen' Eentercorm. Dios mio. I hide een the Hole)

5. The Weendy Death (the fan, een Sommhair, eed maghe me go flad. I hade eed)

6. The Cageen' Death (the onnatracteeb grey barx. Bad treep. Berber' bad treep)

7. The Seengeen' Death (the Wooman. Ees terreeble. Hords my years)

Nehghs time: The Boid.

The carst ob leebeen'...

Sheet.

The Wooman say, Estorbo? We need to talgh.

I say, Whad? You gonna braghe orp weeth me? You can't! I yam your cad. Eed's por libe! Theeck y theen!

She say, No, Estorbo, eed's abou' money. Moolah. Dineros. $$$'s. Een shord, she say, you hab carst ors a lard of morney thees year (y nebbermine' abou' before!) an' you need to carntreebude sormtheen' to the keetty [man, I hade pons]. Doan' ged me wrong she say, as tears started to feell my ojos, I lorb you, we l...

You do???? You lorb me???? I eenterropted.

Sí , I mean, yes, we lorb you cad. Een fagdh I lorb you so moch I doan' know how I weell eber leab weethoud you.

Really? I as'...you yos sayeen' thad, righ'?

No, Estorbo, I mean eed, she say. You are the bes'.

Prrrrrrrrrr (I can' helb myself. I was theenkeen' I yam fire' por bad behabiour. Too moch beggeen' por agua, too morch blag forr, too morch boice, eep etc.)

Bagh to the morney, she say.

Sheet, I say, I though' you porged thad.

No, say the Wooman. Onportunadely nard.

So she essplains to me that ebery mornth my typhoid peells are carsteen': $39.35
My deeleecious peell parckeds por hideen' the peells:$10 a mornth

Ees equal': $49.95  a mornth.

Waid! I say. I yab ron oud ob toes to do the math!

She go arn:

Eef eenternal medeeceene consoltation: $140.00.
Eef blordtesd to measure T-lebels, eed ees $100 frarm specialees' who keess me arn head. I lighe heem.
Eef blord pressure, ees $52.50.
Eef urine, ees $40 (onless the Wooman cadge my pee goo' ad home).

So. She wan's me to helb. WhadammaIgonnado? I yam a cad!!!

...

So thees ees what I do por now:

I put...smallberbersmallsmallsmallboice...PayPal 'Donate' borton on the righ' side ob blarg. See, eed's there. Blosh.

Ees so embarasseen'. Bod I doan' know how to worgh por dineros. I yab no opposable thormbs.

The Wooman says, Cad?

I say: Si?!

She says, Cad! Eef you esspeghd yoomans to donade their hard-orn' dineros to you, you bedhair peeck orp the pace ob your poseteen'. Starp sleebeen' so morch an' star' bein' fonny!

OK. I say. I try. Bod fors' you hab to ged arf the forgheen' carmpudehair  y geeb a cad a chance to orn his keeb!

OK, she say: I try. I try. We try togethair.

So. Maybe eed ees beeg flarp. Maybe I meessaprobriade fonds y becorm a corropd fad cad, eep! Maybe nard. Ees beeg change. Ees change.

I say, I preefhair dayeen, dayoud.

The Wooman say, I know. Me too. Bod you godda roll weeth the ponches.

Dios mio

Whad? Whaaaaaaaad????

Balans' die-yed

I lorb the weeken's!