I pat my cat with a cotton bat till he purrs with all his might.  He quacks like a duck, he is such a suck but he won’t let me tuck him in at night.  All things considered, he is not like a bird, nor a car, nor a train, nor a truck.  He likes flying things but with flapping wings, so he’s not very fond of aero planes but he likes to sit for a bit on the sill and look about the window panes.  He’s an indoor cat; it’s a very large cage.  I stay with him there and play with him there unless I’ve got something better to do.  Come to think of it, and I’m sure my cat would agree, that there is not very much that is better than sitting and playing with a cat all day.  All the things of this life, the toil and the strife, the books and the bars and the fascination with cars don’t amount to too much when it comes to that according to the world view of my cat.  I actually have two cats and they are both of the opinion that their needs come first and most of the time I cannot but agree.  Sometimes I think that my needs come first and don’t know what to do.  Sometimes my cats’ needs and mine are one and the same or at least they convince me that this is true.  They make me laugh and smile with joy.  They like to play with a string or a toy.  They fight each other but only pretend and finally sleep tight and close to each other at the of the night.

~ Bob Zaboo

This is not the way piglets should shelter their fellow school mates.  Really, is it so difficult to predict the outline of a solar alternative?  The wind howls and yet we use no cables to find the grid.  We place money in the bonnet but never think about the affect the weather has on the volume of crumpets entering the country.  All citizens should be alert to the alerts and aware of the wares that infiltrate even the most porous of filters.  Can anyone tell me why the things that are free are bound to complain?  Over on the wall, there is a scratch made by some untoward, vigilant space traveler.  Are we responsible for that breadstick?  The bakery puts out fifteen bales of hay every fortnight and yet we have difficulty taking the temperature of the sustainable undergrowth.  How primitive have we progressed to?  Surely, the antelopes of the city will react to this wonderful story.   It is about time that kindergartens start sponsoring clinical trials on supernovas that just won’t adhere to the bathroom window.  My car does a better painting than this.  When will catastrophes be catalogued in to the correct housing project?  The sickness of finding better power has become a signal of perpetuating reality.  Will it ever stop? I ask you to call the post office and tell them to hold all calls until you send them a letter.   Too many envelops have already gone berserk and questioned the authority of pea pods.  I beg you stop begging.
 
~ Thomas N. Anderson

The cat sat and after that it spat on my hat.  Imagine me sitting in a tree with tea and a spicy flea.  Pies the sizes of flies are falling from the skies arriving on hives of endives, which just drives the rise of the wise.  I make like Jake and fake a take only to rake for the sakes of quakes.  The matter with batter is flatter than flutter and not as yummy as butter on a bun, but only one.  The joke is a poke at folk who yoke the weight of the gate and can’t wait for fate.  The sin of gin is to begin to win.  After the laughter what better than wetter?  Before the door, what boar has a core?  Words are for birds flocked in herds with the nerds.  Computer geeks reek with weak shrieks when throttled with bottles of leeks and space creeks.

After the sun how does anyone run or have fun?  I thought it was cool to be given a stool and then sat by a pool into which I could drool.  However, the weather was heather and leather so I packed up my horse for the ride home, of course.   The kitty was witty when once I arrived, having seen to my needs and planted the seeds for a snack and a whack and a great big thwack.  No not really, I love my friends dear and lend them an ear and supply them with beer with nary a tear.

~ Bob Zaboo

Once, there was a different sort of carnival in which all fire trucks were forced to serve chili and soda from the bottom of the pale.  This was not an inconvenience, since many of the fishermen spent their working lives sleeping in the back of oil cans.  Whenever scientists try to study this phenomenon, they get so tired that they have to take their vitamins more than once.  Having firsthand experience with the kinds of parodies that are involved with all search engines, it becomes obvious which team will reveal the most.

Some practitioners of bigger orifices understand that finding the right margarine for the project is essential.  Without the fidgeting accountants, with their oversized shoes, it would be impossible to surmise how many bread loaves it takes to properly change the components making up the smaller screw drivers.

One critic decided that eating pie was not enough.  He made a practice of screwing in the parking meter with his left hand while rubbing his elbow on the stick.  This allowed him to prove that, over time, nothing becomes something, if only to become nothing again.  A critic of the critic criticized this approach as not leaving enough room for the furniture.  Doubtless, they will, like so many of their brothers and sisters, find the whole comedy enlightening and will likely obtain milk from a different tree.  Fruit cannot find peaceful dreams if the harbor lights are left on at night.  One solution would be to take all critics and coat them with alcohol until they no longer reside in the forest.  As one ape man said to the other ape man, “I don’t like the way this is all showing up now!”

~ Bob Zaboo