Gracious Host Tales #4 Mister’s Sister

When Mister’s sister (not This Mister’s sister, but That Mister’s sister) brought Mister back home one night, she wanted to see The Smee (of course: who wouldn’t?)

“Where’s Mr. Smitty? Oh! I see him! Hi, Mr. Smitty!”

“Mao!” says The Smitty, bounding Lassie-like up to the cars.

Various inane dialogue ensued amongst the human element, to wit: “That’s a good smitty!” etc.

The Smitty continued to talk a blue streak (which means, for him, several words in a row) much to the elation of Mister and his sister – who supplies The Smitty with his high-end imported foreign-made foods!

Mr. Smee the Hunter Part III: A Quick (E)xotic End

Meanwhile, the Smee -- flummoxed, discombobulated and non-non-plussed -- tried to pick up the trail/trial (of the suddenly vanished and well-hidden gecko) by running into the shower stall (favorite haunt of domesticated reptiles in The Smee’s humble opinion).
But the trail had run cold (particularly in the corner where the water collects).

“And there we must leave the benighted/beknighted Smee: errant, forlorn…”

“In other words, shut down, yo!”

“Denied!”

“Word!”

The Misters exit the bathroom, laughing and slapping each other’s back as the credits roll in front of them

-- and which they bang into head first and fall.

Mr. Smee the Hunter Part II: Vile Sentencing

Having squoze through the interstices between the letters of “To Be Continued,” The Misters bounded into the bathroom and waited until The Smitty ope’d his pond’rous and marble [-colored] jaws to drop the gecko on the floor (in order to commencify the pre-mortem cat-n-mousification process).

“Mister, that’s quite a sentence.”

“Mister, it’s nothing compared to the sentence Mr. Smitty has given that poor gecko!”

“We must come to his aid! aid! aid!”

Acting as a wall, This Mister kept The Smitty’s weaving ‘n dodging head from having its way with the unfortunate guest.

Having slipped behind the wastepaper basket, the gecko slipped into that vital obscurity dreaded by Achaean heroes (warm days tilling the soil and rocking their infant sons asleep by the fire).

“ANY-way!”

Right: time to take a break, polish our shields, slay, dress, and roast mutton.

To Be …(you know what I’m saying).

Mr. Smee the Hunter Part I: An Arty Mess

Mister Smitty is a good hunting smitty!

The Smitty clumb up into our TV and video-industrial complex and got hisself on top of the DVD player (some six feet into the air). Peering down where cords collide and divide in a vertiginous tangle ending in dust bunnies (and worse), The Smee capturated a gecko in his mouths and bounded down to earth to have his way with the aforesaid reptile.

“No, Mr. Smee: Not the gecko!”

But the Smity was adamant: into the bathroom he betook hisself and his prey – whose back half dangled from his lips like a child of Saturn.

“Mister, should we intervene?”

The Misters vamoosed themselves toward the bathroom but ran smack into a wall of words saying:

“To Be Continued!”

Editor’s Not(e)

As for the previous (read: tedious) letter, there was no product placed in our blog. We don’t know what she’s talking about.

[ed: ed, how do you know it’s a she? Just assuming? Cat blogs are for girls, huh? Better check your misogynistical assumptions at the door, yo.]

Listen “Ed.’s Ed.,” yo, back off, yo. You think I LIKE having to step in, interrupt the Mister Smitty love fest, be the bad guy, and reply to these addle-pated, bird-brained, cock-a-mamie, dumb-dumb, etc.-etc.s?

[ed: ed, yes, I do. You like it so much that you MAKE UP the letters so you can answer them! Ha!]

The same way I made up YOU?
[ ]

Speechless, huh? Ha!