Monday Meowby Dick

Call me Fishmeal!

Oh, ghods and monsters, he’s off again.

Serval ears ago – never mind how long prehensily

To be fair, he’s always off.

Says the cat carrying on a romance with a garden sculpture…

Having little or no money to parse, and noting particular interest in shore

Okay, you might have a point there.

Shuts I’z recitins!

Sadly, yes.

I thinked I’d sails about a little to see the whatevery parts of the world.

It’s like a train wreck, but without the cute bits.

Tis a way I haz of driving off the spleen—bad spleen, go wayz—

Also it regulates the circumcision.

I don’t think that word means what you think it means.

Whatvers. I finds self growing grime about the mouth in a…

damp, drizzly November of the soul

Okay, that’s it. You’re done. Everyone can go home now. Bye.