Me had too hav som won else rite dat titel becaz I cannut spell good. So from heren, me spellsing and diktionashin willin be transtootered as me speeks a combashin of lingwill pidgnon an scarcrow inglish. So Iyam BOODOOWAWANAKINOO and I from planet ilan in HAWAI’I call MAGWAI wayyy wayyy de sout o main land. Injoy my transbalitrashiated story of my yoot years per transkib of auther, “Sir Lord Fredrik Jonston”. Tanks for intertrested in me! I lov yooz so biglike!


“The Story of Buduwawanakinu”

         An Autobiograghy By
“Da Puff Daddee Kronik- Da Budu”
                       © 1967

     Transliberated contextualized & resyntaxed by Lord F. Johnstone,
      Peace and Love Publishing
          Liverpool, UK,GYT284

       Difficult were the days of my youth. The pressures of harpooning school were upon my like Atlas’ burned unrelieved in the time of the kings and gods of old. Foolish contraptions of a fabricated heaven and a worm ridden Earth! Harpooning was easy for me.

      When the others would steady themselves to throw in class, I would poke them with a needle, unbeknownst to them. It made MY score look better. Ha ha ha ha. It was a pleasure. But our tribe has this terrible tradition. Leg tattoos up to the groin!

      King Kameahmeah would’ve exterminated us summararily for our inept expression of

(Transliteration stops here. Original text inserted instead.)

      Lika me sez, kameahmeah gran furios wit idiot idiot tatu in popo area. No da way wod king kameahmeah stan fo sucha ship crap to do up no idiot tatu. So da stoopid dat I go adventur by me self. I swim to big Hawai’i. No tatu on me no boy no way and

(Transliterated from here)

                                              by using the nanotechnology of a conch shell strapped to a drugged dolphin, I successfully rode into Hawai’i and

(Sorry. Lost transliteration. Again)

                an neba did I’sa look bak agin. I meet lovalee ladee on da san hoo she smoke a ting calla da ganja an yoo no it maka yoo wan da food a lot to put away? Now da people say hid yoo ganja- it is “no eagle”. I no wan no eagle have my ganja! It fly away.

         So dats it. Yoo don tink I grate, yoo rit ur storee an yoo see how much my writin is dat suck to writ.

      Writin. Dat suk!