Truth or Fiction?
"MLB" wrote in message
The sonorous rumbling of the group purring died off, as the members
became aware, on the subliminal feline brain wave mechanism, little
understood by men, of a confluence of happenings...
Their mice had disappeared. There was a faint booming sound from the
deep interior of the temple. And a long shadow was cast upon the
group as if to divide it in half.
They reacted as stalwarts unified, first glancing around to see where
the mice went, then cocking ears toward the wierdly wondrous sound
from the depths, then turning together, as a line of Zeigfeld girls
would do, toward the source of the long shadow.
It's you! they gasped as one.
"Yesss", a raspy vocalization from out of the shadow half purred,
"It is me, Puddin'. Tis aye hoo called the Weague to gavver at duh
Temple ob du Bast"
It was the Puddymaster.
He forthwith assigned roles, from left to right:
You are the Purrmaster, you, the Mousemaster, you, the
Undercovermaster, you the Hissmaster, er Hissmistress...
and so on until each had been assigned a title and a role to play
the necks venture ob da Weague!
First order of business, proclaimed the Puddymaster, will be into the
Sahara where a map will be drawn with an agile and adept claw...to
create a clawmasterpiece of the purrmasterpawplan.
And he led the motley crew into the Out.
"Do gnot look into the Sun!" Puddymaster commanded. "Do not gaze at
the sunrays! Do not look upon the sunspots on the sand!!"
Too late. Nine stalwart puddytats had plopped languidly down,
and lolling in the sunspots, turning their fuzzy tummies to the
of the Saharan sun.
But only a slight delay, before the masters of mischuff and doom meet
with their comeuppance at the paws of....
The Weague ob Eggstwordinary Puddytats!
Next page, please! MLB and TuTu
Whut hapint tu doze stawlwurt puddytatz???? Huh????
Den whut hapint?
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Pitô.ônya 0 0 wiff eeyz wiiiide