My terreetory

Ad larng forgheen' last eed ees spreeng. Or maybe sommhair. Dios mio las' nigh' was hart.

Eberyday I go oud to the terrace y lie arn the deck. I yam nard afraid frarm the men een the weendows no mas. I yam nard eadeeen' the bords. Eef I ead the bords, no mas TB to wadge.

Bod I keep my eye arn the forgheen' blag squeerel. He is CIA. Black arps. Colleghteen' my eetelleegence.
He shoul' ged real jarb.

Maybe I weell bide his yogular.

Also, eenteresteen' debelopemen. There ees a new poossy in town:

Maybe the Wooman can maghe por me a laddhair? I know how to go orp y down a laddhair.

Yawn

Sonday. Ees so boreen'. Nobardy play weeth me. Anyway, I yam seeck ob streeng.

Maybe I go to the cornhair chorch y seeng garspel weeth the beeg microphone y eempresseeb robes. I bed they nebber hear Domeeneecan garspel. Neghs door to the chorch there ees good barbecue. Bod the Wooman tell me I yam allergeec to pork. She loogh ad all the yooman meals an' fine' I ead pork teedbeeds before each recen' orpchock episode. Pork charps worntime, y pork tendhairloin the order. WTF?

You theenk?

I doan' know why. Perhaps I yam Musleem. Or Jeweesh? I yab an Arabeec nose.

Ladely we are eadeen' lamb. So I yam A-OK.

Yawn. Maybe I go y wadge bord TV arn the terrace. There are preedy leedle red worns... I theenk they tasde lighe ras'berries.

I doan' eed ras'berries.

Ees there a bord whad tasdes como mango? Or moshroom?

Forgheen' bords.