A letter to Clara the Cow

Dear Clara,

I'm writing this for your own good; I don't like to see you running around oblivious to the way everyone else sees you. I feel it's my duty to be the only honest person in your life and let you know.

First, you keep going on and on about these papers that supposedly exist somewhere that say you're descended from someone important, but you know what? I'm a queen, and I don't have any papers, so obviously papers are irrelevant. In my experience, which is the only experience that matters, the only useful thing to do with papers is to sleep on them. So shut up about your papers, okay? Nobody wants to hear about them anymore.

Also, for the last time, your fur is NOT white! I don't know if you're color-blind or stupid or what, but you are not a white cat - you are a gray striped cat. You will never be a white cat. [Editor's Note: This is not true. Clara's fur is actually completely white except for the tips, which is what makes her look like she has stripes.] The next time I hear you chattering on about your "pretty white fur," I'm going to punch you in the face. And don't think I won't - I've done it before, and you didn't like it much. [Editor's Note: Both of these statements are true.]

And while we're at it, do you know how ridiculous you look when you attack things that aren't prey. I mean, I admit, sometimes I humor the One Who Types and chase one of those silly, jingling feathers around for her, but you pounce on things that aren't even moving! I don't know if it's some kind of exercise routine or what  (you are super-fat, so if you're exercising, I guess it's at least understandable), but you leap around the house like some kind of freak, even if nothing interesting is going on. Frankly, you look like an idiot. Everyone else is laughing at you, and you're too stupid to even see it.

I don't know who told you that you were special, but that person was retarded. You are a regular minion, just like everyone else who is not me, and you need to learn to accept your place. I know you live in a palace and your best friend is a prince [Editor's Note: This is true; Nick and Clara are best friends.], but that doesn't mean you're fancy or anything. Palaces have maids and washer-women and privy-cleaners and the like in them, too, you know.

I hope none of this hurt your feelings [Editor's Note: This is not true.], but I know my stupid brother, Nick, would never tell you the truth. The fact is, Nick is doing you a disservice because how can you improve your image if nobody tells you your image is a hot mess? I'm not your friend, so I can tell you the truth. You're embarrassing yourself. And worse, you're embarrassing me. So just stop it, will you?

Your sovereign ruler,

Her Majesty Nora