Bromford and Pegasus …

 

»Oh no, llama, please!« I shout out loud. »Another comic-strip? Really? Hasn't there been enough exciments and exaggerations over the past few weeks?«

»Look,« the llama sounds really very tired, »I let the Artificial Intelligence go back to the roots. The lumpy, bumpy, brown Bromford in his armchair is back. But I couldn't let go of the waffles. The llama says, Good morning, Bromford. In the next panel it has lost one ear and says, The sun is shining the birds are singing. In the third panel the llama is gone and the Bromford is talking to or threatening the green armchair saying, Give me one reason… And the grande finale in the fourth panel. Llama says, …and I made waffles! The Bromford is smiling, saying, You win today, and holding a shining waffle on a plate, sunny-side up.«

»The gag is kind of losing it the more you hear and think about it,« I have to admit.

»Guess, you are right, dude,« the llama is pouting. »And I couldn't convince the AI to bring Bromford's question, What's so good about it? back in.«

»What happened to your other artsy-fartsy intelligence, animal?«

»Willy Wonka?« the llama asks. »He sends his regards. But he thinks our project has got no future. Nobody is interested in The Adventures of Llama and bumpy Bromford.«

»His name is Willy Wombat, animal. But I think he is right. Showing the mundane only works one of a billion times. You will never know when nore why. Maybe the everyday-life of a middle-aged guy and his walking and talking llama is not interesting enough and way too boring.«

»About that white horse and the knight in the white armor,« the animal interrupts me.

»He is a winged white stallion, a legendary creature from Greek mythology called Pegasus.«

»Hope you agree, the llama continues, »that you cannot have a legendary creature as your new animal companion.«

»Agreed,« I agree.

»And promise me,« the llama still continues, »never ever to try that outfit and that haircut again.«

»Also agreed,« I also agree. »Wanna watch a movie, animal?«

»OK, chose one,« the animal says, »I'll make us some waffles.«

»You win today.«

🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅🛅

Today is Saturday, the 11th of October, 2025.

Bromford and Rooster …

 

* Good morning, Bromford!

- What's so good about it?

* The sun is shining,
the birds are singing.

- Give me one good reason…

* …and I made waffles!

- You win today.

The llama is still half sitting, half lying in front of the couch-table in the living-room of the penthouse apartment in the building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

»Any progress lately?« I ask reaching out for one or two of the printed papersheets that are literally lying and flying all over the living-room floor. They are basically two versions of the same comic-strip with four panels I have already seen eight days ago.

With its mouth the llama is turning the pages up and down and round and round and from side to side making busy and not very satisfied sounds.

»So, you two have turned my lumpy brown character into a bear now?« I ask.

»Uh-huh«, the llama nods and grunts in agreement. »Bears are cute. And no-one ever asks how the bears are. Everyone should ask how the bears are.«

»And you turned the bagles into waffles?«

»Everyone loves waffles. And they are more international than bagles. Bagles are kind of local, you see? Don't you think, dude? Don't you think? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?«

The animal has grapped me by the chest-part of my shirt with its teeth trying to shake me.

I take a few steps back.

»I am getting some Ted vibes here. You know, the sentient and anthropomorphic teddy bear from the movies, because of the grumpy bear? And some donkey from Shrek vibes because of the waffles«, I say. »But don't get me wrong. I like it. It is not that bad for the start. Have you got some more footage to look at, something continuing this opening panels?«

»More? More? More?« The llamas level of excitement is constantly increasing. »I do not have more!«

»And Willy?«

»Willy who?«

Willy Wombat«, I try to explain carefully, your artsy-fartsy intelligence from the world wide web and Australia? Does he have more drawings or drafts?«

»I don't know who you are talking about, dude«, the llama is opening the glassdoor to the roof-terrace. »These comic-strips are mine! My design, my ideas, my invention! All mine and mine all alone! Mine! Mine! Mine!«

A sudden single flash of lightning from a grey and cloudy morning-sky is illuminating the animal's face in a most disturbing and definite demonic way.

»Mine! Mine! Mine! More! More! More!«

A heavy gust of wind from the open glassdoor piles the papers into an even greater mess.

»May I ask you to tidy up the living-room a little bit?« I ask ever so carefully. »I have got my next next-companion-appointment with a rooster this afternoon, a rooster called Red.«

»An appointment?« The llama is now standing on its hint-legs pressing its front-legs theatrically against its chest in the heart-area. »My future lies in ruins and you are talking about your next companion? How heartless can you get, dude? Cancel the appointment! Cancel it!«

You win today, I think on my way of withdrawal, backwards out of the living-room

Me opening the door to the hallway of the apartment is causing a real whirlwind within the comic-papers. The llama is now standing in the middle of all the mess with sheets twirling around it like autumn leaves in a storm of fall.

From the kitchen I can still hear the animal whine, »How did they do The Peanuts for 75 years? They had the same gag for all this time in every single comic-strip. The same they did with Garfield and Calvin und Hobbes! Always one and the same note. Why, oh why can't I? Why? Oh why? Oh why? Oh why can't I?«

♿♿♿
♿♿♿
♿♿♿

Today is Thursday, the 9th of October, 2025.

Hunter's Moon ...

Hunter's Moon is showing her early face in a cloudy sky. She is the pale October moon which is also this year's Harvest Moon, the nearest moon to the autumnal equinox.

Autumn mists are crawling through the street canyons of Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, fed by puddles of last night's rain and the fumes of the manholes of the city's sewer system.

Kylie once said now and then they remind her of the smogs of early industrial London, England, more than one century ago when the smoke of the factories prevented the dampness and wetness of the River Thames from vanishing into thin air. Victorian fogs that covered poverty and the crimes of preying perpetrators such as Jack the Ripper, and the evil ones of his kind.

Early autumn mornings under flickering gaslights with only single footsteps on pavements of cobblestones echoing in empty streets and without the sounds of horses or carriages or those first ancient automobiles. Is there an owl sitting in the middle of the road on Whitaker Lane with its endless row of buildings leading away from the bay and the harbour? Within the wink of an eye it is gone, replaced by the lights of a bus or another vehicle like that.

Kylie, I think, where have you been these past months? Where have you been when fable-like animals overran my life and blog with their wildlife metaphors? Where have you been when the walls of my little penthouse on the rooftop above the fifteenth floor of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and the seaside, became the dwellings of my mischievous behavior.

The moon seems to be grinning as I am overwhelmed by Poetry…

the dwellings of my mischievous behaviour.
the dwellings of my misbehaviour.

these are corners of the human life I haven't had the chance to clean up and tidy yet.
maybe these thoughts are just a champagne hangover, what do you think?

the sparkling drops that reached the black oily mess my soul is.
bound to let the barrel overflow.
how can one programme positivity?

the set of the mind is one pile of shame for the lock-keyed closet.
navigating the sharks of life?
poor misunderstood sharks
eat the rich and save the sharks

heroine
is heroine a female hero?
whereas heroin is something completely different, right?
where did this opioid get its name from?
heroic heroin killed the heroine

there is too much in my head and it will grow within every second.
I cannot express it.
maybe i SHould use an orange press…

Didn't Sherlock Holmes once use heroin?

»Hey,« the llama is up early, too, »Is that on owl on the street between the tram tracks?«

»I don't think so, animal. I don't think so,« I say closing the glassdoor to the roof-terrace taking another sip of my big mug of steaming, warm chai latte.

And above us the face of the moon wouldn't stop grinning and winking…

🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕

Today is Tuesday, the 7th of October, 2025

Hunter's Moon

Sister Moon, will be my guide
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you


Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak

How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?
You watch every night, you don't care what I do
I′d go out of my mind, but for you
I'd go out of my mind, but for you

My mistress′s eyes are nothing like the sun
My hunger for her explains everything I've done
To howl at the moon the whole night through
And they really don′t care if I do

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 393 & Part 394

 

Today is Monday, the 6th of October, 2025.

'He who has a why to live can bear almost any how,' said Friedrich Nietzsche.

How is the bear?, asked one of the see-no-evil-monkeys.

Master Twenty-Five said, the bear can almost any how, said one of the penguins.

But how is the bear?, the monkey insisted, Nobody ever asks how the bear is.

The two mosquitoes buzzed, The tawny owl wasn't speaking about a bear. His saying was about He who why any how.

Who is he?, asked one of the chicks.

The bear who has a why can live almost any how, answered the seven hacker cats.

The tawny owl Twenty-Five was hiding his head beneath his wings.

It's what Friedrich Nietzsche said, he said. It is not about bears. It is about bearing.

What about some berries, asked the little red birds. Some berries would be good.

Maybe some bare bears are bearing some berries barefoot, the bats suggested.

And all the cats repeated this conversation singing it as a loud and dissonant opera.

Meanwhile six hear-no-evil-monkeys joined 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…

🙉🙉🙉

🙉🙉🙉

"Bromford City"

I wanna go home, I wanna go home, oh how I wanna go home
Last night I went to sleep in Bromford City
And I dreamed about those cottonfields and home
I dreamed about my mother, dear old papa, sister and brother
I dreamed about that girl, who′s been waiting for so long
I wanna go home, I wanna go home, oh how I wanna go home


Homefolks think I'm big in Bromford City
From the letters that I write they think I′m fine
By day I make the cars, by night I make the bars
If only they could read between the lines

'Cause you know I rode the freight train north to Bromford City
And after all these years I find, I've just been wastin′ my time
So I just think I′ll take my foolish pride
Put it on a Southbound freight and ride
And go on back to the loved ones, the ones that I left waitin' so far behind
I wanna go home, I wanna go home, oh how I wanna go home

"Bromford Lake Monster"

As if you know the story of Bromford Lake:
Leviathan first hid in the deep where her children sleep
She kept them hidden from the plague

But have you heard the story of my mother’s fate?
She left us in Detroit in the rain with a pillowcase
Fortune for the paperweight

We followed her to Joseph, near the Indian raid
She wept among the weeds, hide and seek, for the fallen chief
Spathiphyllum on his grave

And like the cedar waxwing, she was drunk all day
We put her in the sheet, little wreath, candles on the crate
As the monster showed its face

As she waits for her children in the shade
Demogorgon or demigod the ghost parade
No oblation will bring her back to our place

She stayed within the deep end of Bromford Lake
The undertow refrained with the flame of a feathered snake
Charybdis in its shallow grave

Bromford and Wombat …

 

* Good morning, Bromford!

- What's so good about it?

* The sun is shining,
the birds are singing.
Give me one good reaso -

* …and I brought bagels.

- You win today.

»What are you reading, animal? And where did you find my old travel diary about my family-trip to Australia when I was a young kid?«

The llama is lying in the hammock in the living-room looking at some colourful printed pages. From the travel diary it has taken a photograph of me and a family of wombats my parents had taken in the Australian outback on that remarkable journey so many years ago. The animal has leaned the photo against one huge mug of hot hay-tea who is standing on the couch-table.

»This is making me laugh so hard«, the animal giggles.

»Show me that.«

I take the pages away from the llama. They are a comic-strip with four panels about a llama with light fur and some lumpy, grumpy brown creature with arms and legs sitting in an armchair.

»What is this?« I ask. »Did you draw this? And what is this brown creature? Wait a minute… Is this supposed to be me?«

The llama is still giggling.

»Too many questions, dude«, it says. »Let me answer them like this. A comic-strip. No, I had help from some artsy-fartsy intelligence. And yes, it is you, your spitting image. Like cut from your face.«

The llama is roaring with laughter.

»Do you really think this is funny, animal?« I ask. »And isn't the speech bubble in the third panel pointing in the wrong direction? Shouldn't Bromford be saying, 'Give me one good reaso -', to make more sense and the punchline funnier?«

The hammock is dangerously swaying from side to side.

»And this is so not true. You never ever brought or bought any bagles nor anything else for breakfast since you moved into my penthouse apartment in the little house on the rooftop of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.«

»Excuse me«, suddenly an unknown voice can be heard in the living-room, »I am only the comic artist. I only do the drawings. Story and text are from the llama. It only gave me the settings and the title of the upcoming series of comic-strips and books,

The Adventures of Llama and Grumpy Gromford.«

»You totally misheard or misunderstood that, you Aussie Bum, you.«

The llama is gathering itself after having finally fallen from the wildly swinging hammock onto the living-room floor.

All of a sudden I notice a hairy face in a video-chat-window on the open laptop the llama has also placed on the couch-table.

»Bromford«, neighs the llama, »I always said Bromford not Gromford. The Adventures of Llama and bumpy Bromford.«

»Bromford?« the voice from the laptop shouts out, »Bromford Bibble? Is that you?«

»Willy Wombat?«

I suddenly recognize that voice and that face.

»My old friend, my travel acquaintance from our trip to the Australian outback all these years ago? Llama, where did you find his address to start a video-call?«

»Just look at the back of that photo of you and the wombat in a matching look, you simple«, the llama says. »But now, leave us alone. We are in the middle of a business meeting here. Willy Wombat, Australia's most successful comic artist, and I are working on the next big thing in comics and animations, even bigger than Southpark or The Simpsons.«

The llama is pushing me out of the living-room.

»Hi, Bromford. Bye, Bromford«, in the hallway I can hear Willy's fading voice from the laptop after the llama has closed the door behind me.

Ever since I was a young boy, I think to myself, I wanted a wombat. And to think that I once voted for a political party that demanded and promised a wombat for every household across the land…

🚾

Today is Wednesday, the 1st of October, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 391 & Part 392

 

Today is Sunday, the 28th of September, 2025.

The reign of the cats is over, said Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl.

I don't know what the bird is talking about, said the three pouting cats.

We are all still here, said the two cats with wry smiles, all twohundredandthirtyone of us.

When did it start raining cats?, asked the two Baby Chicks shyly.

When the dogs flew to the moon, the astro-cats answered mysteriously.

Maybe cats stopped coming, sang the nine little red birds, but do you see those monkeys approaching over there?

Will it start raining monkeys, now? all the chicks asked confused.

No-one wants and needs a reign of monkeys, the fifteen scorpions growled. Monkeys are close to men and we all see and feel what the reign of men brought to us animals and the whole wide world.

Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is, as Albert Camus once said, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl.

And a group of twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys joined 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…

🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 

"Planet New Bromford" 

Do you know there's a new Bromford
Where the moon we're watching is all-sides silvered
Now I'm walking on a road
Made of plexiglass and down a deep pink light
It brings me up to the sky with a wonderful power
Where the scent of some angels makes my skin immortal
Hey babe, please don't you go

Here the time has gone away
To another planet that it needs it more
Now I'm living on a plane
Where it seems to be the center of a universe
Every star of the sky makes me happy tonight
And they will dance for us all the night
Waiting for a new day

Hey babe, please don't you go
Hey babe, please don't you go
And throw away your golden dress
Don't go and polish your white wings
Don't go and throw away your fastest car
Don't go and you will fly so high that

"Bromford"

She is trapped inside a month of gray
And they take a little every day
She is a victim of her own responses
Shackled to a heart that wants to settle
And then runs away

It's a sin to be fading endlessly
Yeah, but she's alright with me

She is leaving on a walkaway
She is leaving me in disarray
In the absence of a place to be
She stands there looking back at me
Hesitates, and then turns away

She'll change so suddenly
She's just like Bromford
Yeah, but she's alright with me

Keep some sorrow in your hearts and minds
For the things that die before their time
For the restlessly abandoned homes
The tired and weary rambler's bones
And stay beside me where I lie
She's entwined in me, crazy as can be
Yeah, but she's alright with me

Bromford and Moray Eel …

 

»And now, Ladies and Gentlemen and all beyond and behind it, let's welcome tonight's special guest. Actor and comedian most famous for his unforgettable and remarkables roles in the movies Ghostbusters, Ghostbusters II, Groundhog Day and What About Bob? Clap your hands and hooves and beaks in loud applause for the incredible, the one and only…«

»Llama, what are you doing in the living-room?« I ask all annoyed and just coming home after a long and exhausting night-shift at the Boulangerie Inn.

»But here is yet another surprise guest! Ladies and Gents and all behind and before, a warm welcome to Bromford Bibble, the dude who smells like the town. Applause! Applause! Applause!«

The llama is sitting on the leather couch in the living-room of our penthouse on the rooftop of the apartment-building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside. It has moved the couch in front of the flat-screen on the wall using the couch-table as a desk. Next to the couch it has arranged the two armchairs as kind of a seating accommodations for possible guests.

»But before we listen to  Bromford's stories about his splendid day or night, let's enjoy some words from our sponsors, Ladies and Gentlegents and all above and below, commercial break!«

»Cut the nonsense, animal.«

I am wiping my tired eyes and try to move at least one of the armchairs back to its original position.

»Hey, are you trying to sabotage my Late Night Show here, dude?« the llama complains. »Don't you recognize the highest form of political discussion and freedom of talk and speech for oppositional opinions in a tyranny when you see one? Are you trying to cancel me? Can't you handle the truth, dude?«

»Oh, please, animal. You are not a talkshow host. And no-one wants to cancel you or your imaginary Late Night Show.«

»Come on, dude. Don't be a spoilsport. Just play along. Ask me who my original guest star was! Remember? Actor, comedian, Ghostbuster? Guess who…, guess who… Please, please, creamcheese please.«

I take a deep breath. This is gonna be one of these days, I think.

»Who is your original guest-star, animal?« I ask.

»It's the fantastic Bill Moray, of course! Applause! Applause! Applause, Gentleladies and all the rest!«

The flat-screen behind the couch and the llama is flickering and suddenly showing the picture of me and a moray eel after the animal has pressed the button of the remote infront of it on the couch-table-desk.

»Bill Moray?« I ask. »Seriously, animal?«

»Hey, dude. I am just trying to be funny here. MAGA, dude! MAGA!«

»MAGA?«

»Short for Make America Grace Again! But I see, dude. You are not in the mood for Bill Moray and free satiric thoughts and speech. Maybe Eelon Mask would have been a better guest.«

It is too early, I think, but thank God, it's Friday.

»Do you wanna be my sidekick, Brommy?«

And I am trotting to the kitchen to fetch an early morning drink.

🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿

🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿🅿

Today is Friday, the 26th of September 2025.

Bromford and Hippo … / Bon Automne, Bon Automne …

 

»Monday, Monday
So good to me
Monday mornin′
It was all I hoped it would be«

»Well, dude«, says the llama, »looking at the photo of your latest new-animal-companion-date I would say this Monday morning hadn't been too good to you. No offense. No body-shaming. And stop singing, please!«

»None taken«, I answer.

»Taken what?« asks the llama.

»Offense. None taken. And call me The Mamas & The Papas from now on.

Oh Monday mornin'
Monday mornin′ couldn't guarantee
That Monday evenin' you would still be here with me…«

The animal is shaking its head.

»Do you always take the shapes and forms of your companions? I have heard that about dogs and their masters. Dogs start to look like their owners and likewise the owners start to look like their dogs the longer they are living together.«

»Are you talking to me, animal?« I ask. »Are you really talking to me? Are you saying I am starting to look like a hippo?«

»…potamus!«

»What?«

»Hippopotamus! You are starting to look like a hippopotamus, dude. Kind of chunky.«

»That's all muscles, animal. I have been working out a lot lately.«

»You are such a liar, dude.«

»And 'potamus' is Latin for 'Let us drink!'«

»Are you sure?« the llama wants to know. »But who am I to argue? Let's get drunk. With hippo or without …potamus.«

And during trotting to the kitchen to fetch some glasses I can hear the animal mumble,

»I kind of like the red shirt. Or even the idea of Bromford Bibble being a red-shirt. But the hippo is kind of strange and weird. Way too blue. And where are the hind-legs? Maybe lost while swimming in the Nile.«

🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰
🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰🚰

Today is Monday, the 22nd of September, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 389 & Part 390

 

Today is Saturday, the 20th of September, 2025.

Why didn't they call us Baby Chicks from the beginning?, asked the two chicks.

Same reason why they did not call us Front-Facing Baby Chicks, said the twenty-five chicks.

And the ten more chicks - also known as Hatching Chicks - added, We want to talk about World Children's Day, now! We are the closest to human children in this random group of animals. And humans all over the world are celebrating World Children's Day today!

You mean, today was World Children's Day, Twenty-Five, the tawny owl preached. It is almost over in most parts of the world.

Are you sure, oh, Twenty-Five, our guru-owl who is called like the year?, asked the two Baby Chicks.

Somewhere in the world it is always tomorrow, thought the twenty -five Front-Facing Baby Chicks out loud.

Maybe our complete names are simply too long spoken out loud, mumbled the ten Hatching Chicks.

Or as Seneca once said, said the tawny owl, Even while they teach, men learn.

And on their way to the moon twenty astro-cats laughed and joined 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…

🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀

🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀

🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀

🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀🐱‍🚀

"Bromford Bear"

Kolkata Bear
I wake up, I hear you there
You disappear
Into the night, I look for you everywhere (Everywhere)
Everywhere (Everywhere)

No, they wouldn't dare (No, they wouldn't dare)
But even if it's true, they've taken me there (Taken you there)
To the gates of Kharagpur brought you everywhere (Evеrywhere)
You evеrywhere (Everywhere)
So R&R on a night, pitch black
Out in the dark along the old train tracks
You are my sky on my whistling breeze
You the stars that glitter between
So I know you'll guide me back to your side
My spirits are cut and done can divide
But not you and I
(Bromford Bear)

(Bromford Bear)
I look for you everywhere (Everywhere)
Everywhere (Everywhere)

I call out your name (I call your name)
Bromford Bear, I miss you (I miss you)
Do you do the same? (Call out your name)
Send you back to captivity

Look for you everywhere (Everywhere)
You everywhere (Everywhere)
I swear, I look for you everywhere, Bromford Bear (Everywhere)
I cannot hear you there
Did you disappear? (Everywhere)
You're into the night
I look for you everywhere (Everywhere)
You everywhere (Everywhere)
I swear, I look for you everywhere (Everywhere)

"Life On Bromford"

The first snow
First winter of my life
I was told it was the height of me
The first dance
Well, the first one that counted
Felt like my blood was built from crackling lights


All this ancient wildness
That we don't understand
The first sound of a heartbeat
To riots roaring on


This is not the love you've had before
This is something else
This is something else
This is not the same as other days
This is something else
This is something else

It shouldn't need to be so fucking hard
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford
It doesn't need to be the end of you, or me
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford


The first light
First light on the silent shore
Just the ships that anchor me and you
The way home
This is always the way home
So you can rip that map to shreds, my dear


But all we ever wanted
Seemed miles and miles from here
And the first days in a strange new land
Awaken beasts in us


This is not the love you've had before
This is something else
This is something else
This is not the same as other days
This is something else
This is something else

It shouldn't need to be so fucking hard
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford
It doesn't need to be the end of you, or me
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford
It shouldn't need to be so fucking hard
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford
It doesn't need to be the end of you, or me
This is life on Bromford
It's just life on Bromford

Bromford and Dory …

 

»Was I crying in my sleep or only dreaming I was crying?«

»What is wrong with you, oh Bromford, my dude?«

»I don't know, animal. Maybe I feel some autumn melancholy crawling up from the bottom of my soul.«

»Maybe your soul needs a button, dude. And no sign of a palette surgeonfish lady?«

»Finding Dory?«

»Better do, now that we've lost Nemo to the deep blue sea… 

Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…«

🚺🚺🚺🚺
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Today is Tuesday, the 16th of September, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 387 & Part 388

 

Today is Friday, the 12th of September, 2025

When Jean-Paul Sartre said, Man is condemned to be free, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl spreading his wings, he really meant, Today is gonna be a very special day.

What special day?, all his followers wanted to know in unison.

We will never know, the owl answered and flew away in the bright mid-day sun.

And twelve hipster-cats joined 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…

🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓🐱‍👓

"Heaven's Here On Bromford"

You can look to the stars in search of the answers
Look for God and life on distant planets
Have your faith in the ever after
While each of us holds inside the map to the labyrinth
And heaven's here on Bromford

We are the spirit the collective conscience
We create the pain and the suffering and the beauty in this world
Heaven's here on Bromford

In our faith in humankind
In our respect for what is earthly
In our unfaltering belief in peace and love and understanding

I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise
Of ordinary people leading ordinary lives
Filled with love, compassion, forgiveness and sacrifice
Heaven's in our hearts

In our faith in humankind
In our respect for what is earthly
In our unfaltering belief in peace and love and understanding

Look around
Believe in what you see
The kingdom is at hand
The promised land is at your feet
We can and will become what we aspire to be
If Heaven's here on Bromford

If we have faith in humankind
And respect for what is earthly
And an unfaltering belief that truth is divinity
And heaven's here on Bromford

I've seen spirits
I've met angels
I've touched creations beautiful and wondrous
I've been places where I question all I think I know
But I believe, I believe, I believe this could be heaven

We are born inside the gates with the power to create life
And to take it away
The world is our temple
The world is our church
Heaven's here on Bromford

If we have faith in humankind
And respect for what is earthly
And an unfaltering belief
In peace and love and understanding
This could be heaven here on Bromford

Heaven's in our heart

"Bromford Overture"

The dreamer, the unwoken fool
In dreams, no pain will kiss the brow
The love of ages fills the head
The days that linger there in prey of emptiness, of burned-out dreams

The minutes calling through the years
The universal dreamer rises up above his earthly burden
Journey to the dead of night
High on a hill in Bromford...


"Bromford Finale"

The dreamer, the unwoken fool
High on a hill in Bromford

Full Corn Moon …

 
This year's September moon is not the Harvest Moon, thought Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl. But it is still a Full Corn Moon. And it is a very special moon. They call it a 'blood Moon' or a full lunar eclipse.

I might like to call it a night, wherever you are on this blue planet of ours. But a blue moon is something completely different. Maybe tonight  you will discover the waters of Moon.

🌕
🌕🌕
🌕
🌕🌕
🌕

Tonight is Sunday, the 7th of September, 2025.

Full Corn Moon

Sister Moon, will be my guide
In your blue, blue shadows, I would hide
All good people, asleep tonight
I′m all by myself, in your silver light
I would gaze at your face the whole night through
I'd go out of my mind, but for you
I′d go out of my mind, but for you


Lying in a mother's arms
The primal root of a woman's charms
I′m a stranger to the sun
My eyes are too weak

How cold is a heart
When it′s warmth that he seeks?
You watch every night, you don't care what I do
I′d go out of my mind, but for you
I'd go out of my mind, but for you

My mistress′s eyes are nothing like the sun
My hunger for her explains everything I've done

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 385 & Part 386

Today is Thursday, the 4th of September, 2025

 
Once Friedrich Nietzsche said, To live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering, said Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl.

To suffer is to meet more and more cats, said the eighteen bats.

Wait till the mice and rats arrive, said the owl.

Our guru means, cats are archenemies to mice and rats, the chicks tried to explain.

No, no, no, said the caterpillars, rats and cats cannot be archenemies. They rhyme and what rhymes is always good.

Twenty-Five took a deep breath. Autumn is coming, he thought. Is autumn any good for cats or rats?

Let's Fats, shouted all sixteen cats with tears of joy. Let's Fats all cats and rats.

And nobody noticed how and when four dragon cats joined 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…

🐱‍🐉🐱‍🐉🐱‍🐉🐱‍🐉

"Bromford 1997"

Que paso que paso?
A caipira planto
Que paso que paso?
A policia llego
Que paso que paso?
O semterra murio
Que paso que paso?
Chacinha no Bromford
Que paso que paso?
A globo relato
Que paso que paso?
O politico falo
Que paso que paso?
En pizza acabo
Que paso que paso?
Chacinha no Bromford
Que paso que paso?
Radio bemba relato1

 

"Bromford"

In the crystal ball the gypsy sees the villa
The riders on the hill, the fire in the fields
She sees the mission bell swinging in the silence
Now the shooting starts, the bullets pierce the hearts
The senoritas crying at the well

Up in the Gold Hotel the money hits the table
The heavies all are there, that's why the deal's going down
Beautiful women all dressed in diamonds and sable
Down upon the street beside a garbage heap
A mariachi band begins to play

Somewhere a blues guitar plays echoes in the alleyway
The Tijuana dawn claims another day
The golden sun rises on the runway
The pilot understands, the money changes hands
Inside the jet, the briefcase snaps goodbye

In Bromford town there lives a great bullfighter
His eyes are screaming blue, his hair is red as blood
And when the gate goes up, the crowd gets so excited
And he comes dancing out dressed in gold lamé
He kills the bull and lives another day

Bromford and Woodpecker …

 

… and as the wind opened the window the ghost disappeared together with the swaying curtains.

- The End -

»That was the damn finest novel I have ever read or listened to«, the llama whispers in awe. »I told the cloned mammoth lady you were writing a novel but I thought it would be some kind of fake and boring autobiography. And I never thought it would be that good.«

»I would say it is lacking at least one kind of bird as a protagonist - let's say a woodpecker«, said the blue woodpecker.

»Let me guess, bird«, the llama adds sarcastically, »and you would call it 'Woody'.«

»Why not?« asks the red woodpecker. »Woody Woodpecker is the most famous of all woodpeckers. He is our hero.«

»And that extraordinary laugh of him.«

The blue woodpecker is dreamily rolling her eyes.

»How much wood would a woodpecker peck if a woodpecker could peck wood?«

The llama is also rolling its eyes but not in a dreamy way.

I am shaking my head annoyed by the direction this blockblog post is taking.

»As much wood as a woodpecker would peck, if a woodpecker would peck wood«, the red woodpecker says.

»Always these repetitions!« suddenly the llama complains. »How much repetitions would a repetitor repeat if a repetitor would repeat repetitions?«

»But your nose is way too pointy«, the blue bird says to me.

Then she flies away and starts drumming and pecking and drilling holes into the kitchen cupboard.

»Are there any more birds on your list of possible future animal-companions?« the llama wants to know.

»Only one, two, three or four«, I say.

And after all I close my laptop on this very early Monday morning.

🚻

Today is Monday, the 1st of September, 2025.

Bromford and Meerkat …

 

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

The llama looks confused.

»What is it with you again, dude? Why are you reciting poems or something like that? A poem that doesn't even rhyme? Really?«

Kneeling on my hind-legs, upper body erect, I turn my head quickly from side to side. Always alert, always on the lookout.

»I am on watch«, I say, »with my new friend, Meer, the Kat. Always alert, always on the lookout. All for the greater good of the colony.«

The meerkat's head also turns from side to side. Erect on its' hind legs it seems to be kind of nervous.

»I prefer the term pack instead of colony«, the meerkat whispers. »My pack is one of thirty individuals. To be honest, this pack here is too small for my taste. What is it? A human, a llama and me? A pack of three. Way to small.«

»It would be just the two of us«, I say. »The llama will move out sooner or later once you became my new animal companion.«

»A pack of two individuals?« The meerkat is outraged. »Way too small. Sorry, not with me. If you like call it a colony or a club. And what was that talk about not taking wives and not fathering children? Sorry, I am out. I have to decline your offer.«

And very quickly and on all four legs the little mongoose is leaving the penthouse above the fifteenth floor of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

»Hakuna matata, dude«, the llama sighs. »Keep your head up, my warthog-friend. Why don't you just finally give it up? You have already got the bestest animal companion you can have, dude.«

»August is a heavy month«, I say very deeply.

»And seemingly never ending«, the llama adds.

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Today is Saturday, the 30th of August, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 383 & Part 384

 

Today is Wednesday, the 27th of August, 2025. 

Time is an illusion, said Albert Einstein, said the tawny owl.

Write that in your BlockBlog, said one hacker cat to the other.

I'm not a hacker cat, said the other cat. I am a ninja-cat.

Don't believe her, said the eleven ninja-cats, she is not a ninja-cat. 

But no-one could see or hear them in their secret disguise.

Hacker cats, one of the stunt cat remarked, are a myth. Cats cannot work computers and not solve murder mystery crimes. There are no such things as detective cats.

But despite all of this twenty-seven hacker cats joined 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…

🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻
🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻
🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻🐱‍💻

"Bromford"

One, two, three, four

Watching this go by, you get a notion in your head
You′re going nowhere
I'm sure you′ve felt that way too
Don't the good times fly?
You'll be a long time dead
If life′s for living, it′s up to you
Let's dance!
Romance, find Bromford, beyond the mountains of the moon
No fears!
No tears
You pay the piper, you call the tune
Believing yet to reach where sky and water meet
That far horizon, the line that never seems to rest
The closer I get to it, the faster it retreats
I′m walking slowly into the west
Let's dance!
Romance, find Bromford, beyond the mountains of the moon
No fears!
No, no tears
You pay the piper, you call the tune

Let′s dance!
Romance, find Bromford, beyond the mountains of the moon
No fears!
No, no tears
You pay the piper, you call the tune

Find Bromford, beyond the mountains of the moon

"Bromford City"

You′ve got a best friend, don't know how
You′ve got a best friend now
You've got a best friend, don't know how
You′ve got a best friend now

You can take him out for drinks
And if he stinks makes you think
Maybe baby, I love you more

But I′ve gotta have some friends when
You're gone for to hear me cry
Don′t I

You've got a best friend, don′t know how
You've got a best friend Monday morning comes,
Don′t leave me now

Woke up this morning, don't know what I said
Now I'm walking ′round in circles, baby, bread in my head
They say Bromford′s the place to be
But can you get me there for free?

There's always a tunnel at the end of the line
You can wear it back to 1929
Cause if you never see me again, I′ll leave all the cash that I can

Buy yourself a drink and if it stinks makes you think
Maybe baby, I love you more
But I've gotta have some friends when you′re gone for to hear me cry
Don't I?

You′ve got a best friend don't know how
You've got a best friend now
You've got a best friend now
You've got a best friend now
You've got a best friend now

You've got a best friend now

 

  

Bromford and Hippogriff …

 

»When I went to school my very big, if not to say giant teacher told me I had to be very carefull and polite to this magical creature. Otherwise it would tear me apart with its' hard and sharp beak.«

»What kind of creature is this?« the llama asks.

I take a closer look at the picture.

»Looks like an oversized eagle and some feathered being with too many wings«, I wonder. »But it may be one magical creature being torn apart. Somehow the tail has lost its' frontend or the front part has lost its' tail. It's magic. All is magic.«

»The title of today's BlockBlog post says 'Hippogriff'«, says the llama. »You cannot have a hippogriff as your new animal companion in the penthouse apartment. A hippogriff is not real. But I wasn't talking about the bird in the picture. I wanted to know what kind of creature the dude in the blue and white shirt was.«

»I cannot believe it. I cannot accept it. After all these walking and talking animals I am not allowed to have a hippogriff? What would my old professor for Care of Magical Creatures would say about that?«

»Walking and talking animals?« The llama is heavily rolling its' eyes. »Where have you gone to school? Hogwash School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Come back to earth, dude! Wake up! This is reality. This is the real world. This is life in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, these days.«

Sunday mornings, I think, are always quite challenging to reality.

»And what are you up to today, animal?« I ask the llama.

»It's time for my yearly CAPTCHA.«

»Your what, animal?«

And the llama says, »My yearly Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart.«

📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶
📶📶📶📶📶📶

Today is Sunday, the 24th of August, 2025.

Bromford and Gorilla …

 

🎵 When the sun hits the moon
Like a big pizza spoon
That's amore… 🎵

As I enter the living-room I find the llama standing on the leather couch. Once again, the animal is pretending the seating furniture is a Venetian gondola and the animal itself a gondolier singing and driving the little narrow boat with a broomstick for a gondola pole. With the llama on the couch sits a gorilla.

»What is a pizza spoon?« the gorilla asks.

»I don't know«, answers the llama. »It's just how the common gondoliers' song goes. That's amore…«

»What do you think is the national animal of Italy?« the ape wants to know.

»Rooster, I think it's a rooster.«

»I don't think so. And why didn't you say cock? Like in the Gallic cock - le coq gaulois - the French cock.«

»I think it is quite obvious why I didn't say cock. So maybe the most Italian animal is the bull. Isn't Italy most famous for its bullfights and bullfighters?«

»No, that must be Spain«, the gorilla says.

»Than it must be a stallion. The Italian Stallion.«

»Sylvester Stallone?«

»What calzone? Are you hungry?«

I think it is time to interrupt this nonsense.

Still standing at he door I am throwing questions into the room, »What is going here? What are you two doing on the couch? And who is that gorilla?«

»Oh, see, it's Bromford, the dude who smells like the town«, the llama welcomes me. »May I introduce King Konfused, your Thursday's appointment for the job of new animal companion.«

Oh, how could I have forgotten that this is still a thing.

»And, animal«, I ask, »what do you think? Would King Konfused be a good new animal companion for me?«

»The blue picture of you two looks like you two were a match made in heaven, but oo be honest«, the llama puts the broomstick back into the closet in the hallway, »I don't think so, although he likes Venice and the channels and the gondolos as much as I have ever hated them.«

»Speaking of appointments«, the gorilla interrupts our chit-chat, »I have got to go now. I have got another appointment on the highest building in New York City with a white woman and some annoying airplanes.«

Having spoken these words he jumps out on the roof-terrace and climbs down the façade of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁
🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁
🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁🈁

Today is Thursday, the 21st of August, 2025

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 381 & Part 382

 

Today is Tuesday, the 19th of August, 2025.

What is this nonsense? asked one of nineteen stunt cats. Why are you all following a demented owl through the seasons and the year without any aim and direction? Don't you have work to do, you folks? We are stunt cats, and we - indeed - have a job to do here.

And the nineteen stunt cats with their capes and masks and their skid lids let themselves shoot across the drying river on their flame-spitting motorbikes with a giant cannon.

Happiness is a state of activity, said Aristotle, sighs Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl.

And after their stunt the nineteen stunt cats joined 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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"Via da Bromford"

E′ l'imperativo di ogni eroe
Qui bisogna cavalcare
Via mare si fa prima, eh già
Via da Bromford

Oltre la Foresta Nera
E la Boemia occidentale
Oltre le pianure d′Ungheria
Via da Bromford

(Reprise)

"Bromford"

Con acciaio e rombo d′elica
In ogni impero umido
Come germe invasore
Mi sento a casa qui
Ebbro d'orgoglio, fumo di spirito
Su questo altare affascinante di un′idea
Un nuovo dio cammina qui
Vita, vita
Nascosta luce dell'anima
Buio

Bruciando chimica d'immagine
Come una fossa di trincea
Sbarro il confine alla
Banalita′ del cuore
E col nemico siamo deboli
Come demone pervaso da follia
Un nuovo dio annega qui
Buio, buio
Nascosta luce dell′anima
Solo

Bromford and Rabbit …

 

- Meet me at the Bromford Harbour Bridge.

* As if… Wait a minute. Dude, did you
 say Bromford Harbour Bridge?

- Yes, llama, I said Bromford Harbour Bridge.

* And you did not mean the Sydney Harbour Bridge?

- No, llama, I did not mean the
 Sydney Harbour Bridge.

* You are not reprising our nonsense
 blockblog post from some days ago
 by picking up the senseless
 discussion about meeting at the
 Sydney Harbour Bridge and the pure
 impossibility of travelling to
 Australia?

- No, I am not. And I still think that it
 is not sheer impossible to travel to
 Australia. A little unlikely and
 definitely not planned in the near
 future, but not purely impossible,
 llama.

* And when you say Bromford Harbour Bridge
 you mean that Harbour Bridge that I can see when I look out of my
 bedroom window, just having to
 stretch my neck a little and turn to
 the left? Is it that Bromford Harbour Bridge
 you are talking about? That
 Bromford Bridge you wanna meet me at, dude?

- That's exactly the bridge I am talking
 about, one and the same, animal.

* As if…

- As if what?

* As if you would ever leave this
 penthouse of ours above the fifteenth floor of the apartment
 building on 666 Whitaker Lane in
 Bromford, the friendly town by the
 bay and seaside, dude. As if you
 would like to go and visit sightseeing
 features of this town that you see
 and use and visit every day.

- You are right, animal. I don't know
 what's gotten into me. Seems like I
 have fallen into some kind of rabbit-hole
 lately.

* A rabbit-hole full of animals, cities
 and songs and lyrics about them -
 even if they aren't really about cities
 and towns and villages, perhaps?

- Rabbits? Are those these smaller
 hares with only a little less creepy
 staring eyes?

* Only as far as I know, dude.

- ARRRGHHHHH!!! Animal, get that
 white magician's pet out of my hat
 and out of my apartment! Now!
 When and why did you let it into our
 home? Get rid of it! It is very bad for
 my hare phobia, as you very well
 know!

* I have forgotten one thing in your
 rabbit-hole, dude.

- That's what?

* Phobias. The strangest and most
 unusual and ridiculous phobias and
 fears that no person ever has or had.
 Come, little blue-eyed rabbit. 
 Uncle Bromford is not well today.
 He's not himself in moments like these. 
 Let's take a nice little walk down to
 the waterside. Would you like to see
 the Bromford Harbour Bridge, little rabbit?
 I would like to show it to you.

- Do you know what NG means, 
 animal? NG means not good, animal,
 not good.

 

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Today is Wednesday, the 13th of August, 2025.