Good evening, Everybun!
It's been a very quiet day in the burrow. Even my scribe didn't do anything. I mean, he tried to "brush" Charlie, and it didn't go well. She hid, and he had to deliver cookies to her on his knees, crying into the bundo, apologizing. Serves him right, I say.
Maybe - and that's a big maybe - we'll art tonight. He asked me if I would pose for a sketch wearing an old-fashioned RAF flying helmet with an oxygen mask. I looked at him and thought, "The sorry sod is really getting tired of having all his original digits, isn't he!?"
Good nigh and good luck!
- Gus
No comments:
Post a Comment