Musings

I must beg your forgiveness before you read one more word. I honestly was up against the wall without option and I sincerely apologise for any inconvenience or discomfort the following might cause.

Inigo has been showing an ever increasing interest in my writings; asking questions, mouthing my journals, eating my pens. Three have been found tortured, lying in a pools of ink within the folds of bedding beneath his nocturnal hoard piles. You can see my dilemma when he's become more persistent about including some of his musings.

I gave in. I explained at length as to what he might include; delightful observations, troubles or events he might like to share. What follows is what churns through his runt brain, such that it is.

The Mind of Inigo:
"I'm afraid my poop will get stuck to my butt."

There is is. In all it's glory. Is there any doubt, my brother 's a maroon? I have no more to share. I've come down with a headache in my eye and I'm need to take a nap.