I don't dance

I don't dance Texas two step. No, thank you. I really don't. I even do not waltz anymore. I can not tango, polka, fox-trot, or cha-cha. I don't dance two step. I even do not walk steps. I can sit and smile, sometimes frown. I cook, eat,watch the world still in awe. I can smell roses Yes, I can flirt. I just do not dance anymore. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 10/20/20011

A cat

I am white and orange, nine pounds including whiskers and a tail. Our mom knew how to dip deep into genetic pool. I have three brothers and two sisters. One is Siamese, one calico, brother is a big, fat tabby. We have Himalayan, and scrawny, bowlegged, bushy tailed sister.
They used to call me a Hop, or something like that, because I liked to hop high on the grass. It was sunny, grass was green, fields full of mice and snakes just across dirty road. Little town had a butcher who knew how to make jitrnice (something like pudding in the casing) and sausages. There were also two bakeries with wonderful kolatches and poppy seed strudels.
Then one day two women came. One of them was driving a van. I knew I will have to go. They were to many of us in the house. They put me on the floor of the van and took off. I had to pee, but I was holding back. Humans can be very opinionated about little puddles.
I went to live with my woman. She smokes.

To be continued.

A mouse and a moose (Tongue twister)

To Krystof A mouse mumbles to the moose: meet me Monday at midnight under the mistletoe when is full moon. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 10/9/2009