Today I tole Grampy what Momma prawly bees makin' me take Betsy for to play on my baseball team, an' that ain't right acause firsty; she bees a girl, an' for the nother thing, she makes me sick. Grampy gived me very good vice 'bout that. Ya gottsa revolt, Georgie, he telled me. Which, that means, I don't gives a ding dang dickens; I ain't doin' it! So I tole Momma jus' that. Plus I sayed, I is revoltin', Momma. An' guess what? Betsy sayed, George, you is ploblably the most revoltin' thing I has ever sawn! So I sayed, why thanks you, Betsy. An' I thunk; Grampy bees right again. Afore ya knows it, me an my big little older sister Betsy prawly gonna bees gettin' along like two ticks on a terrier's tail. I only jus' hadda beed a little bit revoltin'.

I has beed tellin' everbody what my big little older sister's name bees Betsy Wetsy acause I thunk it were funny, so a course she hadda go an' tole on me. Momma sayed, you is a bad boy for to make yous sister cry, George! Which, I tole Momma; well cryin' prawly bees wetsy, don't it? Then I gotted grounded. Girls is so stupid I can't not hardly stand up. An' I is sticked atween stoo-an'-ped jus' like peanut butter an' pyjamas in a sangwitch.

I were tryin' to splain 'bout Momma today to Betsy; but she jus' hadda thunk she beed sooo smart. I sayed what Momma bees like a gummy worm; all sweetie on her outsides, an' then so sour on the insides it gonna make yous teeths bleed. Betsy ping-ponged them pointy ears an' sayed, well, we doesn't eat worms where I comes from. So I tole her, ya prawly don't even knows where ya comes from, Betsy; an' then she sayed, you ploblably don't knows neither. Ha! I comes from right here, I sayed. Hows 'bout ya jus' put yer stupid hat on afore Momma goes an' gits all sour.

Hey guess what? Me an' Momma has abducted a boxer girl for to be my baby sister even know she bees older 'an me. We has besided what her name oughta be Betsy. Betsy bees skinny like the dickens, an' she gots pointy ears, an' she talks all pronouncy like as if she bees a queen or somethin'.  Betsy don't likes me what so all, but Momma sayed, jus' give 'er some time, Georgie. So I tole Betsy, prawly you is gonna love me someday. She jus' sayed, it ain't prawly, you nink-and-poop, it bees de-nounced, ploblably. This ploblably ain't gonna be so much fun.

Me an' Scabby Doyle gotted in trouble today acause we was ' fightin' 'bout who bees handsomest. Scabby thunk what he bees handsomer 'an me, so I tole him, ya don't bees called Scabby acause you's a movie star, ya know, Scabby. He beed arguin' what Scabby ain't even his real name; an' then Momma hollered, boys! Stop yous bickerin'! Which, I has never heared Momma swear like that a front a my friends; but we shutted up all right. An' then guess what we heared? Scabby's Momma. Callin', Scabby, Scabby Doyle; come on home for dinner now. Well, if yous own Momma gonna call you Scabby, prawly everbody gonna knows who bees the handsomest boy. Looks like I winned that bick. Plus, I's handsome.

Tonight I beed Helpy Helperton for Momma, acause I seed our favouritest popcorn on top a the fridge so I thunk; I's gonna bring Momma a little treat. Which, I done that; 'cept for them bags is very breakish an' mostly all a the popcorn goed in my mouth afore we got back to Momma floppin' all over the couch. I figured what she were gonna had a hurricane fit when she grabbed the empty bag outta my mouth; but she only jus' sayed, oh well, Georgie. That bees okay. My butts prawly bees too fat any ole how. So I tole her, yes it do, Momma; acause Grampy have teached me what ya never argues with no woman. Now Momma won't not stop her cryin'. An' I gots a be Helpy again an' go git her a Kleenex.

Today I beed watchin' teachy TV an' I seed a show alls 'bout people what never throws nothin' away. They calls 'em whores. An' then my brain goed, Ping-Pong! Acause; guess who bees a whore? Momma. Which, that ain't even funny acause whores is sick. So I tole Momma, you must of bees a sick whore, Momma. An' she goed bee-zerk! She were screamin' 'bout slappin' my dirty mouth, an' chasin' me round an' round, atill finally; I opened up the closet an' showed her all a wigs an' hats an' glasses what she don't never throws away. I tole her, look on all this junk, Momma. Prawly you gottsa be a whore for to keep a messy box like that. Then Momma dropped her wooden spoon an' sayed, oh... I's a hoarder, Georgie, not a whore. So I gived her a great big hug an' tole her, you call it what ya wants, Momma. A least ya knows ya gots a problem.