Sneaky Smitty and the Mysterious Disappearing Doorway!

“There used to be a door here, but I can’t smell it!”

Mister Smitty tackles the mysterious disappearance of the sliding glass door.

With the screen door, no problemo: he can smell the inside of the house through it.

(“Go into the smell” – old cat saying.)

But when the sliding glass door is slideded-in-place, the magically smelly opening disappears into thin air

-- like some Ali Baba “Close sesame” kine thing, the door disappears!

The St. Bernard of Smees

Mister Smitty comes to the aid of lost misters!

When a Mister is downstairs among the plants or cavorting in the yard, The Smitty always comes over eventually and runs his plenteous flanks against the Mister’s leg.

The Smitty is concerned that a Mister is lost and needs the homing device of the Smitty’s smell refreshed.

“Those Misters!” sighs the Smee. “They’re not on their porch or in their house. They must be lost. I will assist them!”

Thank you, Mr. Smee!

A Plea (vis-à-vis The Smee)

Dear Reader(s),

With regards to the previous post, we implore/beg/beseech you, our faithful, not to tell the Smitty the content of the previous confession (that The Misters only exist to serve the Smitty).
Because we fear it will give the Smee a smell head
I mean SWELL head
“What about the part about how we ain’t got no “imputated lives” outside of when we be pettin’ and feedin’ and talkin’ and singing?”
“I think we’re free to mention that (because we only THINK we are doing so – it has no deleterious effect on the functioning of the Smee qua Smee).”
“Ain’t he as fictational as us?”
“Word, in the strictest sense of that word, my good G.; but the “eds.” insist we preserve this distinction twixt us and him.”

“A’ight. Whatevah.”

It’s All About (S)me(e)

The Misters are coming around to the conclusion that it’s all about Mister Smee.

The Misters, you see, exist in order to:

Feed the Smitty

Pet the Smitty

Talk to the Smitty

Sing about the Smitty

Write about the Smitty

Otherwise, The Misters find activities to fill up the remaining (non-Smitty-orientated) moments of their lives with crafts, hobbies, pastimes, hijinks, sleep, etc.

[actually, not to be metaphysical or meta-fictional or nothing, but “The Misters” as a fictional construct do not “fill up” extra-Smittational portions of their imputed “lives” with “activities” since they only “exist” to do or say the things written herein – ed.]

[Don’t you mean “ed.”? – other ed.]

No Snarfus Meantis

Mister Smitty is polite about not smelling The Misters’ food!

When The Misters set their food – in its various compartments of itself – out on the coffee table (they ain’t got no dinin’ room table), the Smitty politely refrains from jumping up onto the table to sniff, snarf, or drag off huge chunks.

The reason for this is (The Misters theorize):

A) The Smitty is a healthy, well-fed smitty who wants not;

B) There are no other choices!