First published in Frogpond 31:3, Fall 2008. First written in 2002.

Howze you gonna ’splain dis to da Muddah Goose? Fa shoo-ah, she’s gonna be pissed. Youze such doity bad kittens, how could ya dooo sucha stoopid sing? Now da Boss Muddah is gonna hafta find youze damn mittens fo youze guys. An’ ya don’t wanna piss off da Boss Muddah, dat’s fa shoo-ah. Youze in big troubles now, busta. Howze you ’spect to keep youze Muddah Goose Actahs Guild membaship if youze gonna pull doity stunts like dis? Dere goes youze guyses next seven-figgah advance, doitboys. And don’t go tinkin’ da publicity’s gonna help youze eedah. No suh. Who wants any o’ us ta be front-page in da Nursery Inquirer? Youze all washed up now, ya dumb kittens. Youze gonna be sleepin’ wid da fishes, kapische? Boy, none o’ youze evvah gonna woik in dis town agin!

                waking dream . . .
                the TV timer
                clicks off