Musashi Sez:
So. Lastest nigt, Mom an Me celebraytid Holloween in our diffrint waez. She went to a partee held by my ol frend Lizzlbet an her buddeez. She went as me—not mai kittee me, but my innr Japneez samurai worrier me: Musashi Miyamoto. I stayd hom as Mom. I thogt about Ceiling Cat verree deeply, an fell asleep on her histree buk. I know it wuz the bestest one of her cherch histree buks, cuz she fallz asleep on it all the tim.
Now on one paw, this wuz less egsytin than I hads ben thingking. But I has desydid that the Shinkansen—the bullit trayn—is not so mutch a costoom as a spritual praktis. The wae I seez it, Ceiling Cat has to zoom! around! everwher! all the tim! verree fastest! to bring toyz to gud littul kitteez (an occayzhunul doggeez, birdeez, ottrz, chipmonks, an lik that) all ovr the werld.
Or mebbe that’s Santy Clawz…
Mom Says:
You’re not the only one who gets them confused.
Musashi Sez:
Huh. I shud thingk so. I meen, I eevn gets confuzzled whil wayrin Mom’z smartee-pants glassiz!
Full Disclosure:
Musashi did not in fact wear his mother’s glasses last night, as she needed them herself. As she pointed out, if you’re going to carry a wooden sword around, it’s best that you can see who it is you are choosing to smack or not smack with it, such as, say, Peter Pan. The above picture is a media stand-in for Mr. Musashi. Not Figure 3; Figure 3 is real. Figure 2 is, well, not so much.
