Here I go again...

Thees peecture was a few days ago. I yam un pequeno mas fadder, now, y also more florffy.

Today I receib bad news.

I yam goeen' bag to the ved. Again. The Smoothman taghe time arff worgh - again - y he weell peeck os orp een Zeepcar y we dribe dribe-dribe all the way to Brookleen. We coul' go een cab bod we hade cabs, also they are more eespenseeb.

Forghe.

Why? I say. Why torture me?? I yam eadeen! Y yam useen' the leeder tray. I yam eemprobeen' my for. I yam assepteen' the kaka potassium gel THREE forgheen' times a day. WHY?

Because your gluose ees sky high cad, y we need to see eef you mos ged higher dose on eensulin, y we need to maghe blord tes' por your potassium to see whad the kaka TumilK gel ees doeen'.

Sheet.

So. Again I mos trable in The Hotel (ees my new name for the Cormfortable Carrying Case - I slepd een eed por a weegh when I was berber' seeck), across Harlem, down FDR, ober the Brookleen Breedge, down Henry Street, pas' our ole' house (I meess my rooftarps, eeeep!) y arnto Warren Street where ees VERG y Dr Slade.

The yoomans are also theenkeen' maybe we mos transfer my papers (ees beeg mountain) to anorder harspeetal een Manhattan. Brooklyn ees berber' far y the yoomans say ees eghstra $100 every time we go. Sheet. I lighe Dr Slade.

Weesh me lorck. I yam tire ob be the preeckeen' y poolleen', y proddeen' y peencheen'.

Ees nard my fauld I yab bad genes. They use' kaka chemicals to clean the floor ob the bodega where my Mamá gabe borth! My Papacito was a trabelleen man!

Also, so embarrass, the Wooman torn me eento Sobway Panhandler: "La-a-a-a-a-dies 'n Gennelmen? My name ees Estorbo! I yam yos a poor hongry blag cad. My house born' down. Y I larst a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ll my keettens. Coul' you spare sorm loose change or a dollar...?"

See, she pud the forgheen Donade bortton arn my blarg.

I read eed y I say, porque eed say "Wile' Edeebles"? I yam nard a wile edeeble! She say, No, no, Cad, I am wile' edeebles, you are Estorbo [I maghe eye roll]. I say, You no spen' my morney! She say, Ob course I spen' your morney: your morney go to your forgheen' ved bells, keetty!!

She say eef I keep leebeen' (WTFORGHE???) I yam goeen' to be berber' esspenseeb. She say $1000 een las' 6 weeghs. Nard counteen' today. F-o-r-g-h-e.

Bod, she say, Doan' worry, Estorbo  you are totally forgheen' worth eed.

My libe.

Dayeen, day forgheen' oud.