Schmoll
I'm angry. Right armor-stinky-top and sour. I have been robbed of my royal privilege that is - and I do not tolerate well. I mean, where would we be if this breaks the lion-equal treatment? Then at the end be my steaks to each running up, ordinary brown lions fed and I can see how the common folk lion crashed it! That's really not - and so I pout now. We must resist that is the beginning.
What happened, you want to know? I'll tell you happy - and afterwards you will admit that something is not easy! So, you know, my man - even though I really think highly redundant - even some lions except me. One of them is Prince Benedict, and I really do not know how he got his title. Indeed, he is a son of the bourgeois-brown Kasanga and shows himself not one, commendable, white hair. However
Martin always says to have to get him preferential treatment. He has raised him with the bottle (well, okay, me too - but I'm also a bit special), and one day he brought him in Rome when he visited the Pope - and you will add: Actually, since he would have to take me. Finally, I fit better with my white coat in the increasingly sophisticated white-robed Pope (by the way: My pink paws fit better than the black shoes, his red paws of ordinary brown lion) than any brown lion. And Martin's excuse that he's only because of Prince (which then only later, in honor of the pope, even the name "Benedict" getting sprayed) was taken because the time was small and could sit on his arm, I find it stupid. Well, okay, I really would have been too large for its arm - but I'm known to be a very decent lion would be good on the lead and remained had not done business under my warranty on the carpet in the audience hall (while I'm not sure whether Prince Benedict thus could control!).
So, the matter was with the Pope, I have been very unfair and unreasonable. But today's got worse: Mr. Benedict (from now on I refuse him "Prince" to be called.!) Has been created with a lioness. And because he is still a young man (not an excuse, I was in any case in which age is not such a bully like Mr. Benedict and his friends Rusty and Junior), he promptly referred thrashing from her and now needs to the veterinarian. However, I have
course not. I am even generous enough to wish the little ones that he does not get missed too many nasty posh syringes. But what really gets me and be honest: In order to transport him, Martin has him shipped off to the Tonga-Mobile!
my royal carriage, exclusively done for me built so far used only by me and pulled of course not ordinary by a car, but two-extra strong men (because getting the at Crown for all that goes on the road, with the term "driver" is a new, deeper meaning) - and is now traveling in this small, brown bully around the country! How do I know that, he even sheds around it, wallows in which he is entitled to privilege and not think in the end likely that he will now always the royal Exclusive treatment gets!
I could snarl with anger. But I control myself. It has, after all, style and etiquette. But must be sulking. I have anyway decided that I speak today with no word Martin. And if he believes he still get any cuddles from me - no. I am of angry with him. At least for now. And he gets to feel. Sun
0 comments:
Post a Comment