I know my paintings have been labeled as “cubism.” I understand that the art world likes to classify them as bizarre, unrealistic, and whimsical. But please believe me when I say that my face really looks like that. They tell me that I’m creative, that I’m whimsical, that I’m an iconoclast to paint something so bizarre.
I don’t mean to interrupt, my liege, but the sentries on the North Wall have spotted a rogue horseman coming from the woods. He’s headed straight toward Dundleboose and he’s headed here fast. Lord Swanth, the archers need your permission to engage.
Hey George Francis Wilson,
How’s Swan Point Cemetery? Are you bored yet after one hundred and thirty five years there? I would be. I myself am doing absurdly well. Though I think I need glasses because I can’t see a single building named after you on campus anymore.
Hey! Ratty. I’ve got a question for you. Where do you get off lying to us like this? I see straight through you and I’m not going to let you get away with this. I mean, “Heavenly” Hazelnut? I don’t think so.
I came to the Ratty for a delicious caffeine boost.
Hello! Hi! Yes, of course you can pet me, silly. Look how soft I am! You can scratch me behind my ears or we can go for a walk! Either way, your touch will transfer a little piece of your soul to me.
Ooh, let’s go say hi to your neighbor, she always gives me a hug.
Gather round, children. Do you want to know a secret? Good. Secrets are my specialty. I’ve been keeping the grounds of this institution for decades now, and I’m swimming in Brown’s mysteries. Tonight, I reveal to you the greatest one of all: the tunnels under the Ratty are real.
Partly Cloudy, 64°
