Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 405 & Part 406

 

Today is Sunday, the 23rd of November 2025.

It is one of the Silent Sundays, the tawny owl said to the eighteen bats. How do you like living on graveyards most of the time?

We are not, said one of the bats, not most of the time.

I see, said the tawny owl, so I presume you are no vampires and bad signs either.

Not most of the time.

Let me give you a quote by Marcus Aurelius on this special silent day.
Death smiles at us all; all we can do is smile back.

Aren't lions just bigger cats?, the crickets chirped.

And twenty-three lions joined 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…

🦁🦁🦁
🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁
🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁

"Bromford Tar Pits"

I was trumping the jungles, there was nothing to find
No mastodon so that I could be the guy that provides
With empty hands, I headed on home
Live long enough, you're gonna choke on a bone, hey, hey

Hey, hey
That's just the way that it goes

Now I'm sinking in the Bromford Tar Pits
And I don't want to die 'cause there's still so much to give
I'm sinking, could you give me a lift?
Wanna make an escape but don't know where to begin

Each time I let go I sink a little deeper, ah, damn
So let me try to persuade you all to lend me your hand
Good with a spear and settling fights
Do anything for the good of the tribe, hey, hey

Could you throw me a rope?
(Throw me a rope)

'Cause I'm sinking in the Bromford Tar Pits
And I don't want to die 'cause there's still so much to give
I'm sinking, could you give me a lift?
Wanna make an escape but don't know where to begin

"Bromford"

All that I've known to be of life
And I am gentle
You ran off with it all
And I am faithful
All that I felt within my arms
And I am weightless
You ran off with it all
And I am speechless
All that I've said to get it right
And I am confident
You ran off with it all
And I am steadfast
All that I thought, to be precise
And I am consequence
You ran off with it all
And I am sorry

And I am sorry
All that I've known to be at peace
And I am desperate
You ran off with it all
And I am restless
All that I've known to be of love
And I am gentle
You ran off with it all
And I am desperate
All that I dream
Where do you run, where do you run to?
And I'm evidence
All that I dream
Where do you run, where do you run to?
And I am faithless
All that I dream
Where do you run, where do you run to?
Now I am messed up
All that I dream
Where do you run, where do you run to?
Carrier, friend
Where do you run?

Bromford and Koala …

 

Oh, look at him. He's so cute. The ears, the eyes, the nose. The fluffy fur and this beautiful smile. I have never seen that much cuteness in one living being. The perfect little teddy-bear.

Dude, our guest is a koala-lady from down under.

I wasn't talking about our guest, llama, but never mind. She is perfect a little teddy-bear, too. Black button-eyed and fluffy and friendly all around. Number one candidate for my next animal companion if you ask me.

Did you know they shit dices?

Animal!

🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂
🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂🈂

Today is Thursday, the 20th of November 2025.

Bromford and Goat …

 

- Animal, I hate Novembers.
This month seems to be so dark and long,
almost neverending.

* Dude, this is the second companion-post
in a row.

- And it won't be the last for this week.

* OK, what was wrong with you yesterday?
Why did you panic? Why did you freak out?

- Leporidae Phobia, animal. Leporidae Phobia.
Easter with all its bunnies hopping around
is the hardest of the holidays for me.

* Leporidae Phobia, dude? Fear of leopards?
Or fear of G.O.A.T.s?

- Goats? Don't be sheepish, animal. Why should
I be afraid of goats?

* Not goats. G.O.A.T.s. Like in Greatest Of All Times.
Maybe your Leporidae Phobia is the greatest phobia
of all times. Or your greatest phobia of all times, dude.
I would never insult a goat.

- That's what I thought. Say hello to our guest Mr. Goat,
llama!

* On the other hand. Now that I see him sitting on the
couch next to you. Look at those horns. Look at those eyes.
This goat is the Devil in animal disguise. Sooner or later he 
will eat our furniture. And after that, he will eat us.

* Llama, maybe you are right.
OK, thank you for your visit, Mr. Goat.
But no thank you, Mr. G.O.A.T.

➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿
➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿

Today is Tuesday, the 18th of November 2025.

Bromford and Hare …

 

ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NO WAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GET IT OUT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MAKE IT GO AWAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂
🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂🛂

Today is Monday, the 17th of November 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 403 & Part 404

 

Today is Saturday, the 15th of November 2025.

There are always more of us, all two hundred thirty-one different cats whispered.

Or, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl, as Mark Twain once said, If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.

And fifteen face-cats joined 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…

🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

"Bromford"

Bromford
Heard all about your fandango
Banged on my knees on your back door
Only to wake you to blues on the way
Blues on the way
Blues on the way

Embarcar
Figures you'll see me as older
Twenty-three hours till the border
Don't think I'll be going as fast as I came
Fast as I came
Fast as I came

Tears on my pillow, of course, they're not mine
Alter that altar, making a play
Somebody invent the telephone line
I'll take my chances

Bromford
Wish I could do what gold does
Heard that the stars were in order
Got yourself dealt a hand with two queen of spades
And blues on the way
Blues on the way

Tears on my pillow, of course, they're not mine
Alter that altar, making a play
Somebody just, somebody invent the telephone line
I'll take my chances

"Fake Tales Of Bromford"

Fake tales of Bromford
Echo through the room
More point to a wedding disco
Without a bride or groom
And there's a super cool band, yeah
With their trilbies and their glasses of white wine
And all the weekend rockstars are in the toilets
Practicing their lines

I don't want to hear you, kick me out, kick me out
I don't want to hear you, no, kick me out, kick me out
I don't want to hear you, kick me out, kick me out
I don't want to hear you, I don't want to hear your


Fake tales of Bromford
Echo through the air
And there's a few bored faces at the back, all
Wishing they weren't there
And as the microphone squeaks
A young girl's telephone beeps
Yeah, she's dashing for the exit
Oh, she's running to the streets outside
"Oh, you've saved me", she screams down the line
"The band were fucking wank and I'm not having a nice time"

I don't want to hear you, kick me out, kick me out
I don't want to hear you, no, kick me out, kick me out

Yeah, but his bird said it's amazing though
So all that's left
Is the proof that love's not only blind, but deaf

He talks of Bromford, he's from Hunter's Bar
I don't quite know the distance, but I'm sure that's far
Yeah, I'm sure it's pretty far
And, yeah, I'd love to tell you all my problem
You're not from New York City, you're from Rotherham
So get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbook
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook
Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook
Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook
Get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook, yeah

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 401 & Part 402

 

Today is Friday, the 7th of November, 2025.

Wolves!

The nine little red birds flew away in shear panic.

Clam down, birdies, said all thirty dogs, you are little red birds not little red riding hoods.

Seven is a wolf-number written with a 'w', buzzed the twenty-nine bees.

Don't follow me, Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl, shouted out, I'm lost, too!

And, It is not length of life, but depth of life, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said.

And seven wolves joined 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…

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

"Bromford"

We got married in a fever
Hotter than a peppered sprout
We been talking 'bout Bromford

Ever since the fire went out
I'm going to Bromford
I'm gonna mess around
Yeah, I'm going to Bromford
Look out Bromford town

Well go on down to Bromford
Go ahead and wreck your health
Go play your hand you big-talkin' man
Make a big fool of yourself
We're, go to Bromford
Go comb your hair

I'm then gonna snowball Bromford

See if I care

When I breeze into that city
People gonna stoop and bow (hah!)
All them woman gonna make me
Teach 'em what they don't know how
I'm goin' to Bromford
You turn-a-loosen my coat
Cause I'm goin' to Bromford

"Goodbye," that's all she wrote

But they'll laugh at you in Bromford
And I'll be dancing on a pony keg
They'll lead you 'round town like a scalded hound
With your tail tucked between your legs
Yeah, go to Bromford
You big-talkin' man
And I'll be waiting in Bromford
Behind my Jaypan Fan

Well now, we got married in a fever
Hotter than a peppered sprout
We've been talkin' 'bout Bromford
Eveer since the fire went out
I'm goin' to Bromford
And that's a fact
Yeah, we're goin' to Bromford
Ain't never comin' back

"The Bromford"

Roll on up, for my price is down
Come on in for the best in town
Take your pick of the finest wine
Lay your bets on this bird of mine

Roll on up, for my price is down
Come on in for the best in town
Take your pick of the finest wine
Lay your bets on this bird of mine

Name your price; I′ve got everything
Come and buy, it's all going fast
Borrow cash on the finest terms
Hurry now while stocks still last

Roll on up, Jerusalem
Here it isn′t us and them
While our Bromford still survives
We, at least, are still alive


Come all classes, come all creeds
I can fix your wildest needs
Name your pleasure, I will sell
I got heaven, I got hell

What you see is what you get
No one's been disappointed yet
Don't be scared, give me a try
There is nothing you can′t buy

Roll on up, for my price is down
Come on in for the best in town
Take your pick of the finest wine
Lay your bets on this bird of mine

Roll on up, for my price is down
Come on in for the best in town

My Bromford should be
A house of prayer
But you have made it
A den of thieves
Get out! Get out!

My time is almost through
Little left to do
After all I tried for three years
Seems like thirty, seems like thirty


See my eyes, I can hardly see
See me stand, I can hardly walk
I believe you can make me whole
See his tongue, he can hardly talk

See my skin, I′m a mass of blood
Change my life, oh I know you can
I believe you can make me well
See my purse, I'm a poor poor man!

Will you touch, will you mend me, Christ?
Won′t you touch, will you heal me, Christ?
Will you kiss, you can cure me, Christ?
Won't you kiss, won′t you pay me, Christ?

See my eyes, I can hardly see
See me stand, I can hardly walk
I believe you can make me whole
See his tongue, he can hardly talk

See my skin, I'm a mass of blood
Change my life, oh I know you can
I believe you can make me well
See my purse, I′m a poor poor man!

Will you touch, will you mend me, Christ?
Won't you touch, will you heal me, Christ?
Will you kiss, you can cure me, Christ?
Won't you kiss, won′t you pay me, Christ?

See my eyes, I can hardly see
See me stand, I can hardly walk
I believe you can make me whole
See his tongue, he can hardly talk

See my skin, I′m a mass of blood
Change my life, oh I know you can
I believe you can make me well
See my purse, I'm a poor poor man!

Will you touch, will you mend me, Christ?
Won′t you touch, will you heal me, Christ?
Will you kiss, you can cure me, Christ?
Won't you kiss, won′t you pay me, Christ?

There's too many of you; don′t push me!
There's too little of me; don't-don′t crowd me!
Ahhh!!!

Heal yourselves!!!

Beaver Moon …

This is my moon.
This is the Beaver Moon.
I am Bromford Bibble, the beaver-magus.
Meet me in the pale moonlight.
Wanna dance in the cold?

Dude?
What is happening?
Is it an owl turning into a beaver?
Or a beaver turning into an owl?
Or is it you turning into both?

🌕
🌕🌕🌕
🌕

Today is Wednesday, the 5th of November, 2025. 

 

Beaver 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
I'd go out of my mind, but for you

Bromford and Badger …

Lately recognizing that I am getting older I thought it was about time to intensify my entertainment and education with classical music. Since I am a user, supporter and fan of physical media - in opposite to streaming music on the world-wide-web - I purchased a set of compact discs with all seven symphonies of one Russian composer, pianist, and conductor Sergei Prokofiev.

Not that I never had contact to classical music. Coming from symphonic soundtrack music for movies, over the years I have discovered works of Beethoven, Mozart or Tschaikowsky.

And in fact one of my earliest childhood records - a good old-fashioned vinyl one, long before the compact disc was even invented - was Peter and the Wolf - a symphonic tale for children - by Sergei Prokofiev narrated by one Swiss actress called Liselotte Pulver.

Later I found out that a lot of people narrated this tale about a boy and his wolf and many other animals like David Bowie, Sting, Alice Cooper or Klingon musician Campino and a Klingon comedian, humorist, cartoonist, film director, actor and writer who named himself after a yellow and black bird which is the French term for the bird oriole depicted as a crest in the coat of arms of his noble family.  And musician Sting used tunes from Prokofiev's Lieutenant Kijé suite for his song Russians from his first solo album The Dream Of The Blue Turtles. So I wanted to dive deeper into and discover the classical works of this Russian fellow.

»Boring!« the llama interrupts my stream of consciousness. »Did you recognize that this Proko-guy on the cover of the first cd with the first Symphony looks like Michael Myers, the killer in the Halloween movies when he is wearing his bleached William Shatner mask?«

»William Shatner played a killer in one of the Halloween movies? « asked the badger, today's candidate for my next animal companion.

»No, no, no,« the llama answers, »not hat I know of. They just took a rubber mask of Captain Kirk, painted it white and gave it to the baby-sitter-hunting psychopath that made Jamie Lee Curtis scream and a scream queen for the next centuries. But I cannot rule out that William Shatner played Mike Myers while he was playing his characters in the Wayne's World and Austin Powers movies.«

»Wait a minute,« I am addressing the badger, »Didn't we already have a companion interview in July this year?«

»No, no,no,« the badger answers, »that wasn't me. That was my cousin Honey, Honey Badger.«

»What are you doing, dude?« the llama-animal is asking me. »Are you serious? I know it was Halloween and stuff on Friday. But why are you trying to scare me with Russian composers wearing Halloween masks on cheapy compact disc covers?«

Serious?, I ask myself. How serious can you get while talking to badgers and llamas on an early Sunday morning?

🛃🛃

Today is Sunday, the 2nd of November, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 399 & Part 400

Today is Thursday, the 30th of October, 2025.

Who let the dogs out?, two-hundred-thirty-one cats screamed like two-hundred-thirty-one out-of-tune violins.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Twenty-Five, the tawny owl began.

He let the dogs out?

No, the owl replied, Friedrich Nitzsche said, Some people don't find their heart until they lose their head.

And thirty dogs joined 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…

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶
🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

"Bromford Roller"

Eagle lands on my Bromford
Six feet under, I'm dead and gone
Said, someone dancing on your grave
Shake off the dust and live again

A hundred ways that a man can die
He come back if he really try
Said, sunlight on the water's edge
Shake off the dust and live again

A new-born babe with an old man's face
Sleep all night and he cry all day
Blue-eyed boy how still he lay
Shake off the dust and live again

"That's How I Got to Bromford"

If you love somebody enough you'll follow wherever they go
That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford
If you love somebody enough you'll go where your heart wants to go

That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford.

I know if you'd seen her you'd tell me 'cause you are my friend
I've got to find her and find out the trouble she's in
And if you tell me she' not here you can follow the trail of her tears
That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford.

She'd get mad and she used to say that she'd come back to Bromford some day
That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford
I haven't eaten a bite or slept for three days and nights
That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford.

I've got to find her and tell her that I love her so
I'll never rest till I find out why she had to go
So thank you for your precious time, forgive me if I start to cryin'
That's how I got to Bromford, that's how I got to Bromford...

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 397 & Part 398

 

Today is Wednesday, the 22nd of October, 2025.

What are these fellows?, asked the penguins. Are they smell-no-evil-monkeys? And if they are why don't they hold their noses?

You mean why they don't press them shut to avoid an evil smell?, asked the caterpillars.

Whatever, answered the penguins.

There are four monkeys, the hipster-cats yelled. There have always been four monkeys!

And in the end, four smiling cats smiled, they are only face-monkeys.

And you always have to face a face, grinned the grinning cats.

'The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing,' said Socrates, yawned Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl of the year that was called like the owl.

And twenty-two face-monkeys joined 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…

🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵
🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵 🐵

"Holiday In Bromford"

I won a competition in a little column in my local paper
So I packed my bags and flew across the sea all on my local paper
I sailed to Hawaii in the U.S.A.
I'm just an English boy who won a holiday in Bromford

I didn't realize it was commercialized when I unpacked my cases
Because a genuine Hawaii ukulele cost me thirty guineas
And even when I'm swimming, I have to pay
I'm just an English boy who won a holiday in Bromford
Oh yeah, yeah!


Across the coral sands, I saw a hula hula dancer looking pretty
I asked her where she came from and she said to me "I come from New York City
And my mother is Italian and my dad's a Greek"
I'm just an English boy who won a holiday in Bromford

It's a hooka hooka on the shiny briny on the way to Kona
And in a little shack they had a little sign that said "Coca Cola"
And even all the grass skirts were PVC
I'm just an English boy who won a holiday in Bromford
Oh yeah, yeah!

In Bromford
In Bromford

"Bromford"

Here it comes, another lonely day, playing the game
I′ll sail away on a voyage of no return to see
If eternal life is meant to be
And if I find the key to the eternal dream

The painted ladies of the Avalon play in the sun, take to the road
To the North, there lies the chills of cold
To the South, there lies the tales untold
But in-between, there lies the place to close your eyes

And I will stay
I'll not be back, Bromford
I will be free, yeah
Of the world, Bromford

"Say goodbye," the city's heroes sing
Bird on the wing, feel, feel so free
Oh, the life upon the rooftop haze
All the cheating and the broken days
So through it all, I see
There's nothing left for me

So I will stay
I'll not be back, Bromford
I will be free
Of the world, Bromford

Sitting here on top of everywhere
What do I care? Days never end
Though the voyage's end will soon be here
No eternal life is here for me
Oh, and now I found the key
To the eternal dream

Then I will stay
I'll not be back, Bromford
I will be free
Of the world, Bromford
Then I will stay
I'll not be back, Bromford

Bromford and Honey-Bee ...

 

»Honey, I'm home! What's the buzz tonight?«

Did the llama leave the penthouse at all today? Or why is it staging its return this way?

»This is my present roommate and animal companion,« I try to introduce the animal to my guest tonight as the llama is dramatically entering the living room.

»Is that a honey-bee?« the llama asks.

»I think so,« I answer.

»What's their name?«

»Couldn't figure it out yet,« I say. »It is only buzzing.«

»Do honey-bees do hibernation? Or what do they do in winter times?«

»Never thought about that, llama,« I have to admit.

»Some people and especially some animals say, the bees are leaving planet Earth because it is going to the dogs,« the llama says. »As are the dolphins.«

And after a longer pause of silence, »... and the ducks. There used to be ducks on that pond in the village. But now they are all gone.«

»What are you talking about, animal?« I ask.

»I don't know, dude,« the animal says, I don't know. »But did you know that honey is not vegane? It is produced by enslaved creatures who are not giving it willingly. As is milk. But the only water in the forest is the river.«

And during our senseless banter we did not notice that the honey-bee has left the penthouse on the roof top above the fifteenth floor of the apartment building and skyscraper on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, buzzing into the autumn evening through the glassdoor to the roof terrace.

🛄
🛄 🛄 🛄 🛄
🛄 🛄 🛄 🛄
🛄 🛄 🛄 🛄
🛄 🛄 🛄 🛄

Today is Friday, the 17th of October, 2025.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 395 & Part 396

 

Today is Tuesday, the 14th of October, 2025.

Do you really think the monkeys want to take over the control? one of the astro-cats asked. I just wonder how. Look what they sent, twenty-eight see-no-evil monkeys and six hear-no-evil ones. Do you think those are the best they have got?

A see-no-evil-monkey and a hear-no-evil-monkey, one of the scorpions wondered, that kind of rings a bell like I have heard about that before.

The four dragon cats took their chance to tell their story.

Of course, they said, we come from Japan. And everybody in Japan knows about the three wise monkeys. They are a Japanese pictorial maxim, embodying the proverbial principle 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil'. We should ask our so-called guru if he can tell us more about them. Or if he maybe has got a philosophical quote by Chinese philosopher Confucius of the Spring and Autumn period.

Look not at what is contrary to propriety; listen not to what is contrary to propriety; speak not what is contrary to propriety; make no movement which is contrary to propriety, as Confucius once said, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl.

They did it, whispered the ants.

Who did what?, the crickets wanted to know.

The Army of the Twelve Monkeys, the ants still whispered. And what they did? We will have to wait and see. We will still have to find out what they did.

And as if to prove all of them right fourteen speak-no-evil-monkeys joined 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…

🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊
🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊 🙊

"Walking Into Bromford"

When I was born I was running
As my feet hit the ground
Before I could talk I was humming
An old railroad sound
Things didn't get much better
When by the age of five
They found me walking into Bromford
Trying to keep my friends alive
No time for celebration
Now there's no known cure
Seeing I was born and raised
On the wrong killing floor
And my loved ones gathered round
To see if the experiment had worked
I was misplaced out of time
Never rich – never worse

Oh momma, please don't cry for me
Tears to the river – tears to be free
And I see twelve white horses walking in line
Moving east across that river bridge
On highway forty-nine
And standing in the shadows of a burnt out motel
The King of Commerce Mississippi waited with his hound from hell
A shiny neon riverboat taking income from the poor
It's floating by the levee in an artificial pool
There's a six-mile tailback back out on junction 304
A stranger at the crossroads
I believe I'd seen his face before
Oh, don't cry for me
Tears fill the river – tears to be free
I'm sad to be leaving
The sun's gone down and I've really got to go now
Sad to be leaving
The sun's gone down – I've really got to go now
Yeah, really got to go now
I've got to go – I've got to move
Sad to be leaving
Sun's gone down – I've really got to go now
Sad to be leaving
The sun's gone down and I've really got to go now
Yeah, really got to go now

"Fort Bromford"

I count my blessings slow
And hope I don't run low
It seems God has a bone to pick with me
And He will not stop picking till I go

Oh, my dear Fort Bromford
Will we meet again
Oh, she sings a bittersweet refrain
But the apple of my eye is still Fort Bromford

I count my blessings loud
And pray I don't run out
It seems God has a thing or two to say
About those skeletons He found inside my house

Oh, my dear Fort Bromford
Will we meet again
Oh, she sings a bittersweet refrain
But the apple of my eye is still Fort Bromford

Oh, she sings a bittersweet refrain
But the apple of my eye is still Fort Bromford
Oh, she sings a bittersweet refrain
But the apple of my eye is still Fort Bromford

Oh, the apple of my eye is still Fort Bromford

Mizaru (見猿)
    Kikazaru (聞か猿)
    Iwazaru (言わ猿)

The Three Wise Monkeys

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.

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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.«

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