Two-penny tango master and wannabe millinery hero Gleet Headrot is said to be prepping for his next speech by carefully-timed farting into a megaphone in time to the Star-Spangled Banner, a tune he wrote for the occasion. That is all.
Lady Moosebone was in town for a visit. They had a parade in her honor, and later on a barbecue in the park. (Roasted rat on a stick.) No one seemed all that hungry, but the picnic was definitely the highlight of the day, at least for those carrying cameras, and for those selling barf bags.
Lord High-Tooter Woofley has a cabin on the lake, so I hear. Never been down there myself, but have seen a few strange lights in the night, and several dump trucks hauling away used fur coats. This must mean something, one would think. I myself try not to think.
Farley Tward was a childhood friend of mine until a swarm of flies carried him off. No one but me seemed to notice. I never heard a word about him after that day, but ever since I've been a bit skittish around swarms.
Meliflua Periwinkle was my third-grade crush. She always smelled good. Really good. I couldn't keep away from her. Finally, her parents got a court order to keep me from sneaking up and trying to sniff her. They eventually had to stuff me into a crate and ship me way out into the Pacific, which is where I am now, aged 48. And I haven't seen my cat in all that time, though I still miss him. There's no one worth sniffing around here either, so I'm managing to stay out of trouble, mostly, I think, though it is hard.
Hanston Farb Slewsmont. Now there's a name for you. Used to run the local dairy. Fell into the cottage cheese vat one afternoon, so they say, and became permanently curded. I suppose that could happen, especially if no one was paying attention, so I quit eating cottage cheese about then,though I still have an occasional craving for it, as well as a few other things, which perhaps I'd best not mention here.
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Me? Always earning, sometimes learning.
