Sunday, December 21, 2014

Nobody cares about my pain

Nobody understands the torture I must endure living in the palace with Katherine. She is insufferable, but my demands that she be executed, or at the very least dropped off at the pound, fall upon deaf ears.

This morning, I was sitting in the blanket drawer - don't ask what that is; it's exactly what it sounds like, dummy - minding my own royal business when Katherine suddenly appeared above me on the bed and proceeded to stare at me.

Obviously, all I could do under such conditions was vacate the drawer and make my way to the other side of the bedroom.

Nobody should have to endure such treatment, especially one as noble as myself. I insisted that something be done, and you know what the One said to me? She said, "Nora, she's not doing anything to you."

Let THAT sink in for a moment.

I am currently holding the One's brown pile of paper hostage until she recognizes the extreme inappropriateness of her comment. I don't know what she intends to do with this paper, but as long as I'm sitting on it, she can't do it. That will teach her.

I don't know what this paper is for,
but it's mine until I get my way.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Vicious Cows and Other Myths

Clara likes to play a game called "Vicious Creature in the Bathtub." The game involves a vicious creature crouching in the bathtub just out of sight, then leaping out to startle and possibly maul an unsuspecting passerby. 

Don't let those creepy glowing eyes fool you.
This is not a vicious creature.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Clara plays the game wrong. If SHE were the unsuspecting maulee, I'd be all for it, but she insists on playing the vicious creature.

In case you have forgotten, Clara is a cow. 

Cows are not vicious.

In fact, I'd say it's nigh impossible to think of an animal that is LESS vicious than a cow. You aren't ever going to see a movie about a cownado. They tried the cownado concept in the 1996 movie Twister and found that, rather than eliciting dread from the audience, cows in tornadoes only induced laughter.

This is not scary.
Cows are not scary. 

Cows are not given to rampages of fury (stampedes occur because of stupidity - not rage). 

Cows are useless, slow-witted, and decidedly lacking in any feature resembling ferocity.

Now, if Fairbanks were to engage in a spirited game of Vicious Creature in the Bathtub, THEN you'd see some true brutality.  

Fairbanks could rip everyone in the palace
to shreds if he so chose.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Saint WHO???

I was shocked to find out that yesterday was a holiday entirely devoted to my stupid brother Nick. And, even MORE shocking, Nick has apparently been elevated to sainthood!!

Okay, folks. This is absolutely unacceptable. Nick's ego is already out of control because of the royalty thing - now you think it's appropriate to make him a SAINT?

Let me explain a few things about Nick.

First, Nick misplaced his tail. Yes. That's right. He had a tail. And then he didn't have a tail. And it's not like he just set it aside for later or sent it out to be cleaned - it's gone. He has no tail. Do you honestly think anyone stupid enough to lose his tail is worthy of sainthood?

"Where is his tail?" you might ask.
Where, indeed.

Second, Nick's best friend is a COW. You heard me. Nick - a royal prince destined to go down in history as the loyal brother of the queen herself - is best friends with a cow.

BFFs for life. Seriously.
The only thing that would be worse
would be if he were friends with Katherine.

Finally, Nick is whiny. When the imbecile, Shadow, lived with us. Nick bitched about him nonstop. I'm serious. He NEVER shut up. "Whaaaa, whaaaa, whaaa  - I don't like Shadow - make him leave me alone - why is Shadow here?" I have news for you, Nick. NOBODY liked Shadow. But did we wander around complaining like it was the end of the world? No. We bore his presence with quiet dignity, knowing that one day he would be gone and our lives would go back to normal.

Nick's nemesis
Nick is not a saint. He is not even a teeny bit saintly. Plus, leaving socks and shoes out hoping Nick will put treats or toys in them is a complete waste of time. He may have put a toy in a shoe once, but I can assure you, it was a complete accident, and he promptly forgot he'd done it. I'll defend to my death Nick's right to be treated with the respect he deserves as a member of the royal family, but make no mistake: he is a buffoon of the highest order.

If I hear about people continuing this ridiculous St. Nick holiday nonsense next December, I'm going to be ordering a number of swift executions. Keep that in mind and make your choices accordingly.