Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Doktr Woof...Russ

Musashi Sez:

I sat ther in the unnergroun bunkr of the ol KGB’s aminal divizhn an stayrd at Myshov the moussee agent from Rusha orijinallee, but now heer in Grrranada, Spayn. An I stayrd at M, mai beluvd leedr, whu caym all the wae from Inglund to halp me sort out my nex moov.

I akskd, “So whu this Doktr Woof? Whut we noe about him?”

M and Myshov egschanjd glansis (this meen they lukt at eetch othr). Myshov sigd drmatiklee. M shuk her hed. “Sorry, Eight. What we’ve told yu is what we know.”

“Huh,” sez I. “Ther alwaez mor. Do he has lotsa technikl weppnz? Do he has compyootrz? Do he has, whut that werd… minions?”

“Oh that,” said M. “Well, er, strictly speaking: probably, yes, and definitely.”

“Yah. That kinda mayk a diffruns, M.”

“Sorry, Eight. I’m so used to taking those things for granted.”

“Huh. I don’t tayk nothin fer granit egsept stonz. In mai limited egspeeryens, mos peeples not have the minions. Compyootrz, shur. Technikl wepponz, wull, that depenz on yer difinishun.”

“Sorry there, Eight. You’re quite right. Your perspective as a relative newcomer to the scene is quite valuable.”

“I shud thingk so. Altho so far I hasn’t met any relativz. Sabaka an Perro, yah, but they’r doggeez. Gato, but I’m pertee shur we not relaytid. An thoz crazee kats at that ol shryn… Did Alek sen yu messijz about them?”

“Heavens, yes. Mysiz had assumed for years that they were a myth, or at most, a dying-out cult.”

“Nope. They’r akshual a buntch of seeryus weerdoez. Serifyabul.”

Myshov sed somthin. I turnd on my LingwaTron collr jus in tim to get the tranzlayshun: “Whut do font hav to do wift the feline cult members?”

M sed qwiklee, “Never mind those details, the question is, what are we going to do to stop Dr. Woof?”

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