* Bromford?
- Yes, Llama?
* Call me KussKuss.
- I don't think so.
* KossKoss?
- No way, animal.
* KissKiss?
- Never ever.
* Bromford, this doesn't work.
My dear readers, do you remember my neighbour, the walking and talking llama? It used to live downstairs in the apartment under my penthouse on the rooftop of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside. But it used the first occasion to move in with me. Do you remember the annoying animal that doesn't work and eats all my food although I haven't mentioned it in quite some time now?
* Who are you talking to, Bromford?
- Ahem, to no-one in particular.
Quiet now, my dear readers, and remember how the llama who calls itself 'KussKuss' used to say me and my blog didn't have readers at all...
* Bromford, this doesn't work.
- What are you talking about, Llama?
* Call me KussKuss.
- Not again, animal. Stop it!
* You meant, Stop Ir!
- Stop talking about Ir!
* Believe me, Bromford. It doesn't
work.
- Ir doesn't work. But you are right. I
don't see the direction. I don't know
what to write about. I forgot to count
the days. And I don't even know what
to think about. English on my mind.
But this is not my father's tongue.
The good old Klingon language always
breaks its way. And I was thinking
about another advent calendar the
other day, a countdown to Christmas
Eve, the Holy Evening, one of the
most important Christmas holidays in
central Continental culture. I thought
about another story about Nanuk,
one of my alter egos. But I lost tracks
and ideas and patience and good will
and temper and temptation...
* Stop babbling, Bromford!
- OK, tomorrow is the first day of the
countdown and I am doing something
different now. I am thinking about
Bromford, for a change.
* For a change? For a change? If you
want a change tear down those
damned red curtains. We are not in
Twin Peaks anymore, human! Tear
down that lodge.
- Ir is still in Twin Peaks. But wait and
see, animal. Wait and see...
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