At this time of year, Millhouse is almost always out at night up to no good. But from a cats-eye view (no, not the ones in the road), the outside world is a murky, mysteriously dangerous place. Around every corner there may lurk a viscious, slobbering, grizzling monster ready to give chase and gobble him up.
As a cautionary tale, I sometimes tell Millhouse of the Wockyjabber....
The Wockyjabber
'Twas murckle and the strabbling brumbles
Did zizzle and fribble in the groofle:
All trinkley were the shumblants,
And the stickly spicks did grople.
"Beware the Wockyjabber, Millhouse!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Grubgrub bird, and shun
The frumious Cattersnatch!"
He sharped the multiferous claws he had:
Long time the dreadious foe he sought -
So rested he by the Fuzzfuzz tree,
And crouched a while in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he spied
The Wockyjabber with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the fruggly plide,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And scrabbly plunge
Those multiferous claws went snicker snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He came a trotting back.
"And, has thou slain the Wockyjabber?
Come to your bowls you beamish cat!
Oh frabjous day! Meow! I say!"
I chortled in my joy.
'Twas murkle and the strabbling brumbles
Did zizzle and fribble in the groofle:
All trinkley were the shumblants,
And the stickly spicks did grople.
Herky
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