Peteroo's Blog

“Honey, I am home.”

*kiss*

“How was the interview?”

“smooch*

“Well, they offered me the position and they catered to my requirement for a yellow ball, but they would not budge on nixing the verbunkos for the set’s music.”

“They did not like your suggestion of Jamiroquai?”

“No, and I even offered two bucketfuls of those shiny anchovies–the ones only available Sunday from midnight to three–to please play any other tunes, but they were not venal.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I know that Hungarian style invokes regurgitation in you, but those silvery ones are too special to give away. So what did you say?”

“I told them I would think about it, but I feel like I need to find a way to impress the impresario enough that they would be willing to change the accompaniment. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Hmmm. Well, let us talk this through as we sipple the evening’s sea. Dolphins seem to hold quite a bit of clout with human folk, so maybe you could pick of some flipper tricks from them; that might be enough to influence.”

“Yes! Yes! That is a great idea! I will collaborate with dolphins, elaborate with humans, and celebrate when I get the job that meets both my needs and standards.”

“You are such a sea-weet lion.”

*smack*

*You are such a wise wife.”

*mmmmmm*

“Let us go to beach now.”

“That is a swimmingly splendid idea.” ; )

“Wake up, orange cat! The pineapples have landed and more are moving in from the horizon!”

“Zzz.”

Only I am on island in sea of galeas.

Too late to malinger; the show is go, set, ready.

Eeny-weeny to those distanced from stage, voice plus audio is large enough for everyone to hear.

Closing set is labyrinthine and, as well, the most aurally stimulating one: a song of gratitude and love. ; )

My arms are up in the air and I assure you I am not the dunaker for whom you are looking; please moove on to other suspects. That being said, I am an American, so I need to be given the benefit of the doubt regarding my innocence. See this red, white, and blue? This is neither French nor Dutch. If it were, I would think I was guilty too, but this is all under-Canadian magnificence. They have many cows over there in the Netherlands, a land ostensibly, as well, of roaming sooterkins, so maybe the demotic terminology confused you and you thought you were looking for missing mooer hims when in fact you should be looking for mousey figures instead. I will forgive you for interrupting my morning run, but there is no salvific road for you if you do not stop staring at my derrière, so you are welcome to remove yourself from my presence now. Fair? Tot ziens! ; )