Gollumic Pentameter

Smeagol: “I, Smeagol, declare that this poetry slam is on. Your first poem must be in Gollumic pentameter.”
Charlee: “Gollumic pentameter?”
Chaplin: “I don’t think that’s even a thing.”
Smeagol: “It might not be a thing on the surface, but it’s all the rage at Club Smeagol.”
Spicoli: “Why does the weird dude get to decide what kind of poem they do?”
Dennis: “I guess on account of we said he could be the judge.”
Mouse: “What have you hipsters gotten us into?!”

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Do You Have A License For Your Poetic?

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Dennis: “What are you two doing up here on the window sill?”
Chaplin: “Sunbathing.”
Charlee: “And getting caught up on some reading.”

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Overheard Around The House And Elsewhere

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Vermin: “HISSS! I don’t know why they brought in these kittens when there’s already a perfectly good grey and white cat hanging around.”
Mouse: “But, ‘Dennis’, I don’t see a grey and white ‘cat’ anywhere. Do you?”
Charlee: “A talking field mouse. / A smelly dog-headed thing. / It’s like a freak show.”

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