10:30
Finally, I laughed Super Loon away on a fast camel. Then I got tucked up with Libby and her 'fwends' (Libby looks so cute when she's asleep, like a baby turtle on cute tablets) and indulged in some sleepinosity.
Then Vati was screaming at the furry loon in residence. 'Angus, you ungrateful lump, eat your breakfast. I made apple pie specially.'
My Vati and Mutti, poor delusional loons, have decided to set up a catering company. They will bake, poach, roast, ice and arrange jelly diamonds and sell it all for a few measly pennies. The only thing the loons have overlooked is that they can't cook. Their speciality is cheese on toast.
Throughout my impoverished childhood, I have been deprived of decent noshelosity. Instead of doing the decent thing, like other parents, they won't order takeaways or make chips. No, they insist that Libby, Angus and yours truly, eat carob muesli bars bought from the loon-run health food shop on the corner. Jas used to flirt with the dreadlocked loon behind the counter, before she found out that he offered her a sandwich, and she got all nervy spazzy. I reminded her of this while I was fastening a yellow spotty bow (stolen from Mr Potato) on Angus' furry neck.
'Jas, mon ami stupide, you'll always have nightmares about healthy food now,' I warned. 'Just because of one marinated tofu and black seaweed sandwich. Angus, keep still. Stop barking. You are not a dog.'
'Neither am I,' said Jas. She is so stupid. I know she is not a dog. No dog could stand having a fringe as annoying as hers. 'I am not a dog,' Loon Number Two looned on. 'So, you must understand that you can't tell me what to do, Georgia. In fact, I am a very healthy person.'
'What in the name of Angus' furry bum-bum are you on about? You won the chocolate eating competition. You even beat Mr Laughy Dave,' I reminded her.
'You musn't put me down, Georgia. We must choose our separate paths to reach enlightenment in this changing world.'
'Mon ami, you've had an overdose of loon tablets,' I yelped, tweaking Angus' bow.
'No, Georgia. I'm serious. Me and Tom are going to a Buddhist camp next weekend. We're not going to eat anything, except for maybe a few lentils and sesame seeds. You must not contact us. I feel that you weigh me down with your silliness about lip nibbling and so on.' What a cheek! Her and Tom are notorious nip libblers! Serial nip libblers! I was just about to explode with laughinosity, when the Loon tablet junkie continued. 'We will meditate under trees, and find the true meaning of life.'
Finally, I laughed Super Loon away on a fast camel. Then I got tucked up with Libby and her 'fwends' (Libby looks so cute when she's asleep, like a baby turtle on cute tablets) and indulged in some sleepinosity.
Then Vati was screaming at the furry loon in residence. 'Angus, you ungrateful lump, eat your breakfast. I made apple pie specially.'
My Vati and Mutti, poor delusional loons, have decided to set up a catering company. They will bake, poach, roast, ice and arrange jelly diamonds and sell it all for a few measly pennies. The only thing the loons have overlooked is that they can't cook. Their speciality is cheese on toast.
Throughout my impoverished childhood, I have been deprived of decent noshelosity. Instead of doing the decent thing, like other parents, they won't order takeaways or make chips. No, they insist that Libby, Angus and yours truly, eat carob muesli bars bought from the loon-run health food shop on the corner. Jas used to flirt with the dreadlocked loon behind the counter, before she found out that he offered her a sandwich, and she got all nervy spazzy. I reminded her of this while I was fastening a yellow spotty bow (stolen from Mr Potato) on Angus' furry neck.
'Jas, mon ami stupide, you'll always have nightmares about healthy food now,' I warned. 'Just because of one marinated tofu and black seaweed sandwich. Angus, keep still. Stop barking. You are not a dog.'
'Neither am I,' said Jas. She is so stupid. I know she is not a dog. No dog could stand having a fringe as annoying as hers. 'I am not a dog,' Loon Number Two looned on. 'So, you must understand that you can't tell me what to do, Georgia. In fact, I am a very healthy person.'
'What in the name of Angus' furry bum-bum are you on about? You won the chocolate eating competition. You even beat Mr Laughy Dave,' I reminded her.
'You musn't put me down, Georgia. We must choose our separate paths to reach enlightenment in this changing world.'
'Mon ami, you've had an overdose of loon tablets,' I yelped, tweaking Angus' bow.
'No, Georgia. I'm serious. Me and Tom are going to a Buddhist camp next weekend. We're not going to eat anything, except for maybe a few lentils and sesame seeds. You must not contact us. I feel that you weigh me down with your silliness about lip nibbling and so on.' What a cheek! Her and Tom are notorious nip libblers! Serial nip libblers! I was just about to explode with laughinosity, when the Loon tablet junkie continued. 'We will meditate under trees, and find the true meaning of life.'
