Twas a galumpful day when I gyred on the wab to discover my chongles were again trummed for a wonkle across the borogroves. I am back, the Jabberwock with the claws that snatch and jaws that bite, but where is my gerumpal clong, the bandersnatch does mimsy amongst the galumphing splocks and tickles the jubjub bird with his slangles beneath its whosklular spleens. Where is my vorpal blade for a quick shun.
Oh how I did long for the brillig shine of the wonkly mond and all the froluptuous blindings of the vorpal proglossies in my bloggle.
I have arisen from the slithy toves of the slang and will again roam the orchradules of the chambs and blicks. Yes, the Jabberwock is back again, but beware. I am not to be underestimated. Mrs. Jabberwock will be keeping her fringly eye on things, no kloggle is safe from her eagley winkle. and the children, oh the children. They arrive in six packs, and will repuddlelate in the complete crumbly trunkles. No ploggle is safe from their grabbles. I just have to be sure they do their homework.
Does anyone have a house to rent for a Jabberwock family. We are peaceloving and organise our own food.