THE BURNIN' BUSH

At Sunday School today, Mrs. Pearson beed teachin' us 'bout a fella called Moses; an' Moses setted a bush on fire an' then he jus' sitted aroun' an' talked to it. I thunk he shoulda gotted in trouble for settin' fires, but Mrs. Pearson sayed, no, George, he never done it. That bush jus' beed burnin' when Moses gotted there. An' God beed talkin' right outta that bush! So I axed her, well, if I sets Momma's spider plant on fire, does ya thinks what angels is gonna talk at me? Which, she sayed, never, never play with matches, George. Then she tole me, no, not lilghters, neither. I's thinkin' 'bout puttin' that plant in the oven, 'cept prawly a angel gonna thinks what that bees too hot. But I's gonna give it a go anyhows, acause I hates spiders. Momma shouldn't not be growin' 'em in the house.

DOGGONE CAT PEOPLES

I is doggone sick 'n tired a pointy-face-whisker-nose cat peoples what thinks what they's glamour-puss fat cat kitty cats jus' bees the cat's pyjamas. So today I gotted all stinkered up in a dumpster, then I putted on a cat face an' rided the bus all over town. Everbody maked smelly faces on me, an' looked on me like; you bees a deesgustin' cat. Which, that were zactly what I wanted! I beed so surprised when Momma gotted on my bus for to come home from work. She looked like as if she seed a horror movie when she sawed me sittin' there stinkin' out the bus. Her face goed all white-ish, an' I thunk what she were gonna say, oh, George, you is a bad dog! But nothin' comed outta her mouth even know it beed movin' like words was in there. Prawly the cat gotted her tongue!

VERY VALLERGIC

 

 

Momma beed mad on me today an' she were hollerin', Georgie how come ever time I tells ya, don't not; ya gottsa go an' does it? What bees the matter with you, George? Then all in a flush; I knowed somethin'. I must of bees vallergic to don't not. Prawly I really is, acause when Momma says don't not; my feets is itchy if I ain't apposed a touch. Or my mouth bees all drippy if I ain't apposed a eat. An' even if I gotta sit still; my bum bees screamin' like I's sittin' on a ant hill. Which, that means what it bees Momma's own fault what them curtains felled down an' pretty near drownded me to deaf. I tried a tole her to don't not say don't not at me no more; but then she sayed don't not talk on yous Momma like that. Well, that maked my tongue all itchy for to keep talkin'; an' it didn't not stop atill Momma taked away my marshmallow pie. I ain't even vallergic to marshmallows.

CAPTAIN BLUE

Today I beed Captain Blue the Super Hero acause I hadded a blue head. With white ears. An' a white A on it. Which, I doesn't knows how come there were a A on my head. Clive sayed, must of means you is Captain Blue Arsehole the Stupid Hero; an' he laughed on me. I were gonna fly home an' tole on him; but then he sayed what arsehole ain't as same as asshole. Clive sayed if somebody bees a arsehole; that means what they is nice. So tonight at supper when Momma passed the ketchup an' axed me, what does you say, young man? I sayed, THANKS YOU, ARSEHOLE! all smart an' proudish. Next I knowed, I gotted whacked on my mouth with a piece a bread 'n butter 'n then sended to my room. I shoulda knowed better than for to listen on that Clive. Now I thinks what that A must of bees A, for A Idiot.

DOOMSY'S FUNERAL PARLOUR

Ever sometime sometime if Grammy bees too borin', she gits herself gussied up for to go an' has a visit at Percy Doomsy's Funeral Parlour. Which, that bees kinda like a Beauty Parlour; 'cept the customers is all dead. Grammy says what that prawly bees okay, acause Percy ain't the best hairs dresser in town anyhows. But he do makes the nicest fancy samwiches and sweet-bites around.  Grammy were goin' out for dinner at Percy Doomsy's tonight; but she comed home early an' mad acause Mr. Percy stopped her at the door. Does you knows the deceased? He axed her. Grammy tole him what she ain't got no disease; but he still wouldn't not let her in. What is the name of the deceased, M'am? He axed again. So Grammy sayed, Chicken Pox. Then he sayed, go home. Now Grammy bees slammin' pots aroun' acause she gots a cook her own dinner; and if she gonnas hafta take a taxi flat across town to Grimsby's Funeral Parlour; then she ain't gonna has a cheap night out no more. I thinks that Percy Doomsy were too mean on Grammy. Chicken Pox bees a good disease.