Grumblings are always grumbling, about this and that. Go ask a Grumbling to take out the garbage, he'll retort, "What, and waste my time? I ain't doin' no rubbish like trash!" Or tell him to trim the hedge, and he'll growl very low, "Leave me alone, Jack, I'm bushed and am staying planted right here so long as I can't figure out what whack smack you are barking about." Try to get a Grumbling to feed the fish, he'll reply composed and reposed, "I just can't do it, Trish, for I fear the only fish I'm hooked on come off punch-lines and onto my dinner dish." Though, the true problem comes when the Grumblings are more than one. Whereas 'a' Grumbling can be humbled into mumbles with 'a' strategically placed TV (which he'll watch indefinitely), if a number of Grumblings start stumbling though doors, jumbling out windows and falling in a bumble of tumbles down the crumbling chimneys narrow, that grumbling will roar into a rumbling crescendo that even the mayor can't fix, because by then he'll be grumbling, too, with little, if any, clue of how to save a neighborhood that has gone to the Grumbling zoo.