HEY GRANDMA! I BROUGHT A LITTLE BUNNY RABBIT FOR YA! TO HAVE!
Swing music. Jazz. Phooey! Ah, bublichkas, how difference in my native willage. Soft music, wiolins, the happy peoples sitting on their balalaikas, playing their samovars. And then, there was Cucaracha. Ah, Cucaracha: so round, so firm, so fully packed, and so easy on the draw. They would sink to me a little gypsy love song, like this. Listen. CUCARAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHA!
Ahh! Help! Save me! He’s a killer! Help!
Mean ol’ Puddy-Tat!
My name’s So White
But my hair’s coal black
North wind bwow! South wind bwow! Huwwicanes! Typhoons! Earthquakes!
SMOG!
Ehhhh, What’s up, Doc?
That’ll learn ya.
I hate myself! I do! I do! I do!
"It’s MINE, you understand? Down, down, down! Go, go go! Mine, mine, mine!
I’m RICH! I’m a happy miser!"
Oooo! Belay there you long eared galoot, get aloft and furl the tatter-sole top gallants before I keel-hauls ya!
Oh no. Not the ‘nose-in-the-book’ penalty!
Yeah, the nose-in-the-book.
I like him- he’s silly!
You may be big, but I’m small!
How jolly can you get?
What a gulla-bull. What a nin-cow-poop. What an im-bess-ill. What an ultra-maroon.
Oh! Mutiny makes me so angry!
Eh, Pierre! One bunny on a bun!
Run for the hills folks, or you’ll be up to your armpits in Martians!
Ooh you tweachewous twickster!
“There ain’t no place like a hole in the ground, a hole in the ground, a hole in the ground. There ain’t no place like a hole in the ground with a big, fat goon a-floatin’ around.”