Peecneec

Eef I seed here weell you feed me?

Ees theese bedhair?

The sospense ees geebeen' me whide knockles!

How abou' now?

(Por fabor?)

Eed's me, Storbee, led me een to your weendow!

The Wooman seengs Kate Boosh to me when I maghe scratcha arn the door when eed begeens to rain.

NARD fonny!

Flyeen' feesh

The yoomans are escapeen' to the roop sormtimes to maghe the peecneec. 

Las' time, they maghe accident y throw the peecneec down arn the terrace. Eed was wonnerful, porque the peecneec was meat weeth fish sauce. Made beeg essplocion all ober the terrace. Las plantas wor cobered een tuna. Eed was lighe bein' een forgheen' heaben. I go leeckleeckleeck. The Smooothman hab nerbous breadown. I tell heem, doan' worry, be happy, the Wooman feeds the feesh fertilizer anyway to las plantas, y thees tasdes moch beddhair. Here, I say, hab a leaf, ees delicioso. 

Cad? He say.

Yes? I say.

Sormtimes you talgh too moch.

Whadebber, I say. Escyoose me por tryeen' to maghe you feel bedder, bodderfeengers.

Oh shortop, he say.

Sure, I say. No prarblem.

Leeckleeckleeck.

El Nueva York Times

I yam shathaired.

Today, een El Nueva York Times, ees beeg story abou' the Wooman. Y the Smoothman, y...ME!

Soun's berber' nice, yes?

No!

You can read eed here. Carncrete Yongles een Nueva York.

Arn the fron' ob the arteecle ees peecture ob the yoomans arn the terrace. Y whad do they show ob me? MY ASS!

Forghe.

Y whad deed they say abou' me, DonEstorbodelaBodegaDominicanaheearmeroareeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep?

Thad I yam  "EERREETABLE CAD"!

Whad.

The.

Forghe.

I cannard comprehen' these.

I was nice. I leesten, polide, the lady askeeen' the Woooman all the questions. I waid por my questions. Polide. Quied. Then I ged bore' y go to seed arn the table arn the terrace. Yoomans: Blablablabla.

Neghs' theen' I know ees ENORMOUS man makeen' yompa arn the rooftarpo, pointeen'' his Neekon ad me: cleekc cleeck cleeck. PAPARAZZI!

I stare ad heeem with roun' eyes. Can I be nowhere een peace? He ees makeen' peectures weethoud askeen' my permeesion. Biolation ob my righ's. He ees also seeppeen gin-dreenk thad the Wooman geeb heem. Arn my roop.

Forghe.

Eerreetable. Ees slandair. I show them eerreetable.

Sigh.

Doan' I deserb more respeghd? Does no one lorb me????  Sarb.

I yam so sad

Later een thees story ees wreetten, Estorbo try "halfheartedly" to scratch worn ob the beeseetors.

...

Que?

I doan' remember theese? Porquewhy? Porque eed nebber happen! Estorbo does NORTHEEN "half heartedly". When I scratch you, you bleed, you die.

Pag ob lies.

I yab email' my lawyer.

My carndeetion

I yam waideen'.

Always, I waid.

These ees my libe.

Waid waid waid.

Eef eed corms, weell I know eed?

Soakeen'

Sormetime' I ged a leedle warm. Eed ees forgheen' July.

Eed's my poddle, y I weell soagh eef I wan' to.

Resparnseebeeleetee

The weathair ees berber' warm y now the caddle are geddeen' restless arn the roop. Ber' energeteec.  Also, the poossy Coco ees sormtime orp arn hor roop arn the order blarck, y she wabe to me. Hor Wooman attaches hor to leash so she can maghe bongeeyomp frarm roop. Poveracita. Ees true. I lighe to loogh ad hor. Bod I yam glad she cannar' to reach me. Porquewhy? I yam celibate. I yam a monk. A rancheen' monk. Weeth many caddle. I mos' remain pure por them.

Cruelty

I doan' onnerstan'.

The Wooman knows I lighe to ead the mangos. I LORB the mangos.

So she plants the forgheen' strawberries.

I doan' ead forgheen' strawberries.

I ead las frutas tropicas. Mango, papaya, eben kiwi. Also the ribe peach y plom.

So she plan' the blueberries y the forgheen' whide corrants. She plan's the blag raspberries.

Whad the forgh?

Whad does a cad hab to do to ged sorm edeeble fruit aroun' here?

Eberyworn say to hor, Ooh, whad a nice terrace you hab. So prrrrrreeedy! So small! So many plantas! Whad a cude cad!

Bod eed is USELESS! There ees northeen' I can forgheen' ead!!!! The cad is HONGREE!

Madre di Dios.

You know the Nuevo York forgheen' Times came to beeseet?

Deed they as' whyporquewhy there ees no mango tree???

NO!

Who trains these people?

I retire een deesgost to the roop.

Maybe I call The Nuevo York Pose'. I hab a scandal to sell them:

Een Brooklyn, where eberybardy has a farm y forgheen' cheeckens, nobardy, - n o b a r d y -  grows fruit por cats.

The sommhair ob Estorbo

Too hart to blarg.

My gard.

Who eenbented forr? I need to ornzeep my coad. Bod eed was made een China y the zeephair ees storck. Forgh. I knew I shoul' buy local.

I lorb the air carndeetioner. I feel como un oso polar (ees the wide bear whad leebs in the snow).

Also I lighe to sleeb onderneath the stone table while eed maghe-a storm.

Ad nigh' I waghe orp to ead arn the terrace weeth the yoomans.

Y then I ask to patrol my range. The Smoothman maghes corfew por me. Ees har' to farm ondhair thees carndeetion. The caddle are geddeen' freesky. They need deesceepleen.

Bod las' nigh I heear musica to my years. A cicada. Cronchee, green, deleecious. Lighe a lolly parp arn a hart somhair nigh'. I waid, I waid. I yam a patient cad.