Maine Bizness

Today we trabeled to Maine for Internashunal Bizness—because if you’re going to run a global operation, you need the proper paperwork in all the states, obbiously. We only need one more for the US operashuns to be complete!

Waffles came wiff us, but he wasn’t feeling his best, so he stayed back at the hotel to rest. He made a cozy little nest out of extra towels and rated the room service soup a 3.7 out of 5. “Good broth, but no garnish,” he mumbled before drifting off to nap again. Reuben tucked a tiny note under his pillow that said, “Get well soon. We saved you a rock.”

After our bizness at the licensing office was done, we took a detour to enjoy the Maine coast. The beaches were soft and breezy, and the lighthouses stood tall and serious, like they knew they were on postcards. Baxter tried to climb one before realizing it was “not climbable wiffout consequences.”

Reuben was thrilled to bisit the giant scale model of the Solar System. He took notes, did a few calculations for fun, and kept saying things like, “This is important context for time trabels.” No one qwestioned it.

Fish, naturally, made a beeline for the Fish Market. He wore a note that said “NOT A SNACK”—just in case. A vendor did ask him if he was a rare imported species, to which Fish replied, “I am limited edition.” He left wiff a wedge of smoked cheese and a story to tell.

We’ll bring Waffles back a lighthouse magnet and maybe a small asteroid if Reuben has his way.

Fank you Carol Littlefield!