Break wind, my friend, break wind. That singular talent that saved me.
In the Observatoire of Starship Ontology they decided. I fart therefore I am.
And yet on this lush vegetative planet. And that bait of an improvident cat.
Doth seal the fate of my organic companions. Only I, dogbot, know.
Let us hunt, very well, let us chase. After all I am here to un-learn.
To study aspects of dogology. To acquire sensible pedigree.
To supress this erudition: Ficus benghalensis, grown from fossil of Doda Alada Mara.
This specimen won’t fruit unless fig wasps are deployed. DNA present in same fossil.
So our felonious feline fiend loves nature. What a catardate, he’s smelling flowers!
Must be a softy who loves poetry. I do the doggerel, he can the catterel.
GPS alert: Laguna ahead. And the fool thinks he can swim.
I’ll be dogged if he was catbot. Or at least a platypuss!
He’s taking a u-turn, this is it. The Crack of Judgement, the Day of Doom.
The Camel that Ate the Straw. Cat up a tree, dead dogs three!
Bob pulls a rabbit – hey, I know that Bob! Don’t shoot!
Too late, my tail is dead! Goodbye cruel world!
Fatima Lasay, San Roque
Wednesday, February 26, 2014