Mr. Twitchell:
[as his cat, Bones, measures his head in front of his mirror]
Well, will that crown fit me or not? I can always have the crown stretched or--my head--shrunk.
[Bones meows, seeing the snow fall outside]
Mr. Twitchell:
What is it?
[Bones and Mr. Twitchell head to the window]
Mr. Twitchell:
A snowfall! No fret, pussycat! That's exactly what we need for that carnival! We are gonna make an entrance!
[cackles]
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:24
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