Toothless Lyle and other woes

Well, okay, I'm not actually toothless. But I am one tooth short, thankyouverymuch. It was my favorite tooth, too. Now all I have is a big hole in my head. I think they might have stuck a little transponder in my brain while they were drilling holes in my head. I have heard voices. At first all they said was, "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" but now I hear voices telling me other things. Like "Aren't you itchy, Lyle?" Which of course makes me itchy. And "Your itchy eyes would feel better if you clawed at them with your dewclaws." And guess what? The voices are right. But when the bosses see me scratching they act like it is my fault and bathe me, give me pills, and slather me with ointment. The voices tell me to spit out the pills and rub the goo on the carpet, so I do. It feels right.

I think the real trouble is that it is August. Every big bad thing that has ever happened to me has happened in August. So I suggest...no, as President I hereby declare that we will have no more August. I don't really care what we do with it but I do not want any more Augusts. If the years go by one month faster that is perfectly fine with me. I will be old enough for my driver's license that much sooner. Or we could rename it. I like Lyleuary. I think Lyleuary would be a very good month.