Finding MrLeach . . .

This is my Popsy Sumo.

He looks lost
trying to find meaning
at the death of
MrLeach.

Yes, Popsy barked about it just now.
MrLeach, the jejemon translator
has passed away . . .

Quark, de other translator of Popsy,
just quacked about it on twitter!
(In case you don't know, Popsy barks in Pilipino.
And he used to have my late brother Bogart,
or Quark the duck, me and/or MrLeach,
to translate his blog to English for our furry friends!)

But whoa wait, Popsy!
Lookit!
See that?
See that crawling brown thing on the right?
Guess what?
That is no other than MrLeach!

Yes, Popsy!
That slow crawling jeering thing
on yer RIGHT! On de WALL!!!
. . . is no other than the
indefatigable (did I spell it right, Vivi?)
ever so ALIVE MrLeach de leech!
Lookit!

Oh-oh, baloney-down!
What drama! Haha!
What wasted emotions, Popsy!

That leechy grinning thing
is probably laughing all the way
to the neighbor next door!
Oh, what was he thinking!
People do that all the time.
They want to go to the other side
where they hope the grass is greener
and instead they find there is no grass
and the other side is drooly blue.
Told you. Woof!

NOW WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!!

Oh-oh ooopsy.
Now here comes the drama queen.
The Keeper growled at MrLeach.
Keeper rolled her big black eyes at MrLeach.
Then Keeper went into her LOUD preacher mode:

IF YOU SO MUCH AS STEP INTO ANOTHER PLACE
THEY WILL SUCK AND PRESS YOU TO SMITHEREENS,
BELIEVE ME! JUST WATCH IT, LEACH!

MrLeach stopped dead in his tracks
and thought deep about his drooly fate
outside of Heaven's drooly but safe space
and before you know it . . .
. . . MrLeach took a U-turn!
Told you so.
Woofy.

Oh c'mon!
Admit it, MrLeach.
Nobody, and nobody,
will welcome ANY leech
into their private space
except for drooly us.
Mark my drool!
Beats me why too.
It is just so.

So did you faked yer death?
Are you playing a prank on my old man,
er, make that, my old papa-dawg?

'Cause if you did, MrLeach
then you really broke my Popsy's heart!
Woof, you probably gave ma Popsy
dog depression bordering on binge diets
and long lazy naps gazing at nothing episodes
and poetic dog blues bordering on mush!

MrLeach, you owe Popsy
an ExplaNahtion.
Go do it!

gee, swpy, gt off ma steeky bak!
ddnt tnk it wl be dat baaaad!
oki, off i go 2kiz ma shumoh . . .

And lay off that jejemon lingo, MrLeach!
You know how Popsy hates that!

So off goes de leech.
De real, honest-to-goodness vampire.
De real blood sucker.
De moonlight, dark sunlight,
black star, and gray drama . . .
. . . and off he goes
to smooch my depressed Popsy.
And possibly cling to Popsy's ears
that is if he can get the chance
or if he will ever have the chance . . .
oh, ma shumoh!
as black as de nyt!
as sad as de skies
4ever n a quandary
weder 2rain or shine . . .
i m soooo a-live
w8 4 meeh . . .
Oh, I don't really understand Popsy!
First, he hates the very presence of MrLeach.
But when MrLeach was rumored dead
off my Popsy goes into a mourning phase.
Unable to blog.
Unable to bark.
But still, able to eat and run.
Hohum.

The Lesson of the Day
from MrLeach no less:
ya miz da one hu labs u
n d one hu labs u miz u 2
n u kno u lab d one u hate
wen hes gone
ladidah. . .

Mush.
Pure mush.
Some days you think you get a bone treat
but all you get are mush.

And the scary part is
I hate fireworks.
Is this leech telling me
that when there are no fireworks
will I drooly miss it?

And will I also miss:
the scary storm and thunder?
Will I miss the noisy streetcats?
Will I miss the deadly mosquitoes?
Will I miss yikey annual shots
and oh-ghost blues?
Oh, what stoofid lessons!

And what a drooly
leechy day . . .