Bromford and Mouse ...

 

It is hot this July noon, in our little penthouse on top of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside. It is not warm, it is hot.

The open door to the roof-terrace does not help. Neither do the one, two, three, four fans in all four corners of the living room.

»What's that noise, dude?« the llama shouts, coming out of the refrigerator. »Are you using an old-fashioned typewriter? And where did you find it?«

»No, I am not using a typewriter, only a typewriter sound app on my laptop,« I have to admit.

»And what are you writing?«

»My first great novella, I think.«

»Should I be interested, dude? Should I care?«

»You'd better do both, animal,« I say grumpily. »Just to please me. And just to prevent me from throwing you off the roof-terrace.«

»Okay, okay, dude. Calm down. Or should I say, cool down?« the llama asks. »What is your novella going to be about, dude?«

»It describes the experiences of two displaced migrant ranch workers, as they move from place to place in some state of the United States of America, searching for jobs during the Great Depression. One is an intelligent but uneducated man, the other a bulky, strong but intellectually disabled man. I will base the plot on my own experiences as a teenager working alongside migrant farm workers in the 1910s.«

The llama is giving me a strange look.

»When did you come out of the sun on the roof-terrace, dude? And did you wear protecting headwear as I told you? Remember the documentary we watched the other day about the brain-cells you lose in extreme heat if you do not protect your head?«

»OK, maybe I will make the one protagonist a Bromford and the other one a llama called Mouse. And I will base the novella on my experiences as a middle-aged man living in a house on the roof-top above the fifteenth floor of an apartment building in a friendly town by a bay and seaside. And I'm gonna call the novella 'Of Bromford and Mouse'.«

»Do you think anyone will get your strange references, dude?«

»John Steinbeck, animal,« I am growling. »I am kind of talking about his famous novella 'Of Mice and Men'. I had to think of this title when I met today's guest, this little blue mouse.«

I am typing some more letters on the keys on my keyboard.

»Oh, my goodness,« the llama says, »he is seeing blue mice again! But thank you for wearing that blue hat of yours today.«

»It's too hot, animal,« I say. »Not to warm, but too hot. I cannot write today. Thank you for making space in the refrigerator. I am going to chill there a little.«

🐁

After I have left the living room and closed the refrigerator door, the llama checks what I have written so far. But on the screen of the laptop the animal reads nothing but,

»I have writer's block. I have writer's block. I have writer's blog.«

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Today is Monday, the 13th of July 2026.

Bromford and Shark …

 

»Another candidate for the aquarium in the sky? « the llama asks.

»A shark has jaws, « I say dreamily, »big, strong JAWS. Like in the movie from 1975. Did you watch it in the cinema for the 50th anniversary last year? «

»I am a llama, dude, « the llama says. »When did you last see a llama at the movies, dude? «

»The year 2000, The Emperor's New Groove, « I say. »Incan emperor Kuzco, poisoned and turned into a llama. «

»Oh no, not that old chestnut again. «

»Great that you could stop by, animal. Wanna stay for a bite? «

»No, thank you. I don't like the grins on both of your faces. I'll take off… «

And the level of uncomfortability keeps on rising while the shark keeps on grinning.

🦈🦈🦈

Later that day, I can hear the llama singing and whistling out on the roof-terrace…

Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear
And it shows them pearly white
Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe
And he keeps it, ah, out of sight
You know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe
Scarlet billows start to spread…

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Today is Saturday, the 11th of July 2026.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 467 & Part 468

 

Today is Thursday, the 9th of July 2026.

Why are you looking so desperate, owl? the foxes asked Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl.

There are too many, too, too many, the owl mumbled.

Too many what? asked the wolves.

Too many songs, the owl continued mumbling. I wanted to give the readers a city song quiz every eight days or so, also to give them an insight into a certain person's music collection. But there are more and more songs and more and more names of villages, towns and cities. Imagine! Suddenly there are towns called War and villages called Stone. And all those songs about Stones and Wars… How can I ever finish the city song quiz cycle? How, canids, how? Tell me how...

Just ignore the songs about War and Stone, suggested one of the guide dogs.

That would feel like cheating, Twenty-Five sighed.

Like that one time, peeped one of the chicks, when you said that the next single animal to join us could easily become our next leader?

And it was shushed by the other chicks immediately.

I like being an assistance dog, said the assistance dog and kept on assisting.

And the owl whispered, 'We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be,' as Kurt Vonnegut said.

And other members of the Canid family - nine poodles joined the one assistance dog, the twenty-three guide dogs, the fifteen orangutons, the seven gorillas, the thirty thirsty monkeys, the twenty-two dragons, the fourteen hens, the six unicorns, the twenty-eight horses, the twenty zebras, the twelve frogs, the four pandas, the twenty-seven koalas, the twenty bears, the nineteen hares, the eleven hamsters, the three mice, the twenty-three wild boars, the fifteen pigs, the thirty cows, the twenty-two raccoons, the fourteen foxes, the six giraffes, the twenty-nine tigers, the twenty-three lions, the fifteen face-cats, the seven wolves, the thirty dogs, the twenty-two face-monkeys, the fourteen speak-no-evil-monkeys, the six hear-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty astro-cats, the twelve hipster-cats, the four dragon cats, the twenty-seven hacker cats, the nineteen stunt cats, the eleven ninja-cats, the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

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"Bromford 1972"

I had a DOG named Banjo and a girl named Muffin
I'd just blew in from Texas and I didn't know nothing
I found my way around this town with a friend I made named Guy
Who loved Susanna and so did I

Now there was this run down shack on Acklen Avenue
That I shared with Skinny Dennis
And a poet name of Richard Dobson who had a novel he'd never finish
That's when Johnny Rodrigues, David Olney and Steve Earle first came through
And every other guitar bum whose name I never knew

Old School Bromford, Harlan Howard, Bob McDill
Tom T Hall go drink your fill and blow us all away

There was this tight-rope-walker who called herself the queen of Poughkeepsie
Who ran away from the circus with some roustabout redneck gypsy
They were Townes Van Zandt fans and prone to combustion
They fought like DOGS in Spanish and made love in Russian

I wish Newberry and Buck White would drop on by the house tonight
Things have changed round here you bet, but it don't seem much better yet

I first met Willie Nelson with some friends at a party
I was twenty-two years old and he was pushing forty
There was hippies and reefer and God knows what all I was drinking pretty hard
I played him this shitty song I wrote and puked out in the yard

Old School Bromford, Harlan Howard, Bob McDill
Tom T Hall go drink your fill and blow us all away

"Bromford Freaks"

Hot milk
Mmmm... tweak my nipple
Champagne and ripple
Shamans go cripple
My sales go triple
We drop lobotomy beats
Evaporated meats
On hi-tech street
We go solo
Dance floors and talk shows
Hot DOGS, No Doz
Hot Sex in back rows

I wanna know what makes you scream
Be your twenty million dollar fantasy
Treat you real good
Expensive jeans
Bromford freaks on the Bromford scene
Related

Touch it real good if you want a piece
Party people know I'm that type of freak

People look so snooty
Take pills make them moody
Automatic bzooty
Zero to tutti fruitti
Sex in the halls
Niagra Falls
Local shopping malls receive
Anonymous calls
Hot like a cheetah
Neon mamacita
Eat at tacoria
Pop lockin' beats from Korea
Looking like jail bait
Selling lots of real estate
Looking like a hot date
Banging like an 808
Photos

Do you want to feel this?
Do you want to feel this?

Norman Schwartzkoff
Something tells me you want to go home
Champagne, bibles
Custom clothes you own
Calling up from special area codes
Bromford nuns with the Bromford phones
I got nothing to do, nowhere to go
I'll tell you what you want
If you want to know
Satin sheets
Tropical oils
Turn up the heat
Till the swimming pool boils
Let all the neighbors
Read it in the papers
Making all those gentlemen cry
Realistic tears

Jockin my Mercedes
Probably have my baby
Shop at Old Navy
He wish he was a Lady