Gloss’ll ail ya

Mister Smitty is multilingual!

Check it:

If they’re reading it, they’re already “checkin’ it,” right?

“ANY-way!”

One fine morning in the farming town of K., The Smee was all stretched out, soaking up the rays, and This Mister was stroking his lissome belly, haunches, and toes when he heard The Smee exclaim:

“Wu wei ren xiao” [faux Cant(onese) –ed.] The Smitty was non-nonplussed.

“Choto ohuro ni hirimas” [pho-nihongo]. Purr.

“Peu-tu soupconner…?” “Pas de probleme, Monsieur Smee.”

Told to (w)rap it up by the “ed.” (he of the mighty brackets), we shall leave the multilingual Smee in full glossolalia, lounging on the sunny roof of the Tower of Babel.