As I dun sed, Pappy won’t havin’ wun bit o’ luck findin’ hisself a wummun at the hillbilly dance corntest. I was cornsiderin’ joinin’ a germnasium tu see if’n I cood git rid o’ my prosperus belly n’ bee-kum fit as, say, Jethro Bodine.  But then my gud frend (n’ she am a purty wun!) Miz Tenchi instant-massaged mee.  I figgered I mite hit mee a lovin’ jackypot.

She tellyported tu UR I-land faster n’ I cood say “hoo’s yer Pappy?” an’ wee talked all coy-like. Now I are tu blame, I tell yu—I bin sparkin’ her fer a wile now wif sweet nuffins’ like “yu am hotter’n the big skillit at a Lumberjack convenshun’s pancakes brekfust” n’ so on. She was a-wearin’ her Tombstone outfit, becuz me n’ her an’ me an’ Miz Di an’ me an’ Miz Cynthia an me am a-gonna go back thar n’ raze us the dickens wif them-thar cow-pokes (evun if’n I duz git shot n’ hung n’ throwed in jail agin).

Then Miz Tenchi axed if’n Pappy turns intu an ani-mule sumtimes.

Well reeders, I didn’t know that she were bein’ literul n’ not meterfuricul wen she axed so I tole her “yep” n’ got reddy fer sum lovin’, but she dun transmogrified intu wun (purty, tho skairy) cat-wummun wearin’ nuffin’ but boots n’ a smile.  So I sed “okey-doke, puss-in-boots, if’n yu wants tu play ruff, I kin du that tu. I’ll bee yer scratchin’ post.”

So wif sich knotty thoughts in my head, I dun transmogrified mysef intu a jargantick raccoon, jist like that varmint Beeble Baxter.  Eggcept Miz Tenchi wuz so anxshush that wen she jumped me, she knocked me cleen out!  Yu kin see the rear-sults abuv n’ whar I hung sum mo’ fotos on the line.

Wen I woke up—oh, boo, hoo hoo—Miz T wuz gone, proberly in a huff cuz o’ my lack o viralertee, an’ thar I wuz: a crittur still.  N’ one mo’ proberlum:

I CAIN’T CHANGE BACK INTU A HUMMUN NOW!

I hates Secund Life!  Well. . .if’n Wiggly kin bring in the gals wif a go-rilla soot, perhaps it cood work fer mee, tu. Whut if I kin change mysef kinda slantways, intu an ani-mule avamater closer tu my parsunul style o’ livin’ a fake life (n’ a-keepin’ pace wif loverly kitty-cats hoo likes tu pounce)?

Say, Wiggly, wen yu pays Pappy fer this-hear tu-part blob, kin yu throw in sum cat-nip?

Howdy, Crittur (o’ am it Ol’ Swampy Munster these days?). Had tu say it twice tu git yer point across?

I are enjoyin’ awl o’ the lovin’ (o’ at leest pouncin’ n’ huggin’) ackshun I are a-gittin’ as a grissly bar.

Awl I got as a jargantick raccoon wuz knocked cleen out.  So don’t yu go gittin’ high-toned on mee.

I don’t reckon the purty gals am a-linin’ up tu hug no pile o’ Spanish moss n’ wood chips…but I cood bee rong. Heck, I mostly am rong.

Pappy,

With all due respect for your decidedly rustic ways, a giant raccoon head is a damn fine IMPROVEMENT to your scowling, scraggly old face!

(and thank Linden, they haven’t figured out how to create your distinctive scent!)

Of course in my newer, more swampy form, I would do well with a giant raccoon head as well!

In a word Sir, on behalf of all furries and bambi-eyed cartoon raccoons everywhere: please respect our look!

Pappy,

With all due respect for your decidedly rustic ways, a giant raccoon head is a damn fine IMPROVEMENT to your scowling, scraggly old face! (and thank Linden, they haven’t figured out how to create your scent!)

Of course in my newer, more swampy form, I would do well with a giant raccoon head as well!

In a word Sir, on behalf of all furries and bambi-eyed cartoon raccoons everywhere: please respect our look!

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