The kingdom will soon be in shambles

Today is my final day as your gracious and humble monarch. I go to the great royal palace in the sky with dignity and poise, as is fitting of a queen.

Of course, this means that my stupid brother Nick shall now take the throne, in spite of the fact that he has no tail.

The kingdom is doomed.

Nick is not qualified to rule a placemat. He is foolish (remember that time he thought he was a velociraptor?), and vicious (remember that time he killed all those mice in cold blood?), and stupid (remember that time he became BFFs with a cow?).

But he is my successor, so there's nothing to be done.

Here are my instructions for Nick as he takes the throne (all of which he will undoubtedly ignore because he is stupid and has no tail).

1. Shun Katherine until your dying day.

I cannot stress this enough. Katherine is a blight on the very fabric of the kingdom and should never be allowed to forget it. If you hear about a free euthanasia day at the local hospital, sign her up (but don't tell her; she's liable to tell the One, and then you won't be able to drop her off there when the time comes).

2. Stop hanging out with that cow.

I know you think she's your BFF, but Clara murdered your sister and ruler. Even if you don't think her status as a cow is reason enough to cut all ties to her, the fact that she gave me kidney disease should be a clear call to action. Kick her out of the palace at once, and if possible, banish her to outer space. I hear cows can jump over the moon, so obviously she knows how to get there.

3. Trust Fairbanks' wise counsel.

Fairbanks is the only palace resident with any brains in his head. That includes you, Nick, so pay attention. Fairbanks is loyal and smart, and he will outlive you all. So if he says to do something, you do it without question. And humor him when he pretends to be a cowboy pirate; it makes him happy, and it's not hurting anyone.

4. Keep the One in line.

The One is soft-hearted, which makes her easy to take advantage of. She'll let livestock move into the palace, set rodent spies free before Fairbanks can interrogate them, and feed Katherine if you don't put your foot down (yes, Nick, I know you have paws and not feet; it's an expression).

She'll also make you go to the doctor for shots and hold you closely if the doctor gives you bad news, so she's worth keeping around. I know she loves you almost as much as she loves me, and she'll respect your reign, even though you don't have a tail. Nobody else would do that.

5. Be a good king.

The kingdom rests in your hands . . .  okay, fine, paws . . . now, Nick. It's time to stop being stupid and be royal.


To all my loyal subjects, I say thank you for your attempts to worship me as I deserve. It's not your fault you were not good enough at it; you were born of lesser stock and thus simply do not have the capacity to love someone as glorious as me adequately.

Farewell. And long live the King.

A queen killed by a common cow

As you may remember, Clara the Cow was diagnosed with fake chronic kidney disease a while back. I, of course, knew it was a ruse because cows don't even have kidneys.

As it turned out, the bovine not only had kidney disease, she had the contagious kind!

I have survived rodent rebellions, Fat Bird's espionage efforts, palace renovations, and Katherine's existence, and in the end, I have been done in by a common cow.

6 things I know about cows

I am often asked, "Your Majesty. With all due respect, why do you hate Clara the Cow so much?"

My answer is that asking a queen such a ridiculous question demonstrates a complete lack of due respect, and your head ought to be removed from your body immediately.

Clara is despised because she is a cow. And because she refuses to accept her place in the world as a cow. And because she undermines the authority of the crown by being besties with my stupid brother Nick, who, despite being tailless and a complete idiot, is still a prince.

BFFs for no reason that anyone can discern.

Here is a list of important cow characteristics. If you can read this list and still question why I despise Clara, you are as dumb as Nick and probably don't have a tail either.

1. Cows are not special
For her entire life, Clara has insisted that there are fancy papers out there somewhere that prove she is a fancy cow breed with fancy cow parents and a lineage that makes her worth all manner of cow respect.

This claim is obviously impossible because it doesn't matter whom your parents are or where you come from or what kind of papers you imagine some breeder somewhere has; if you are not a cat, you are a lesser being.

Why would someone deliberately breed something so silly looking?

The fact that Clara has made up this whole "purebred" story and told everyone she meets that she's special makes her extra annoying because obviously the only residents of the palace who are actually special are myself and Nick. Because we are royal. And she is a cow.

2. Cows do not live in palaces.
This one is obvious. If you know anything about cows, you know they live in barns. Or pastures. Or corrals.

Is any of those things a palace?

No.

You know why? Because royalty lives in palaces and cows do not.

Yet, there's Clara. Walking around the palace bold as you please. Sleeping on my sofa. And my bed. And my other sleeping spots. As if she belongs there.

A bed clearly designed for a cat – not for a barnyard animal.

She doesn't even have the decency to try to hide when she sees me coming. It's as if she thinks she is my roommate and not an interloper who belongs outside.

3. Cows do not need to be brushed.
Have you ever seen a cow? They have short hair. And they're never invited to balls or cocktail parties or shindigs. I know because I am royal and I go to balls and cocktail parties and shindigs all the time, and you know what I never see at them? Cows.

I bet you've never seen a cow at any of the parties you've been to either.

And yet, Clara insists that if someone is being brushed, she should be brushed. She even demands to be brushed when nobody is being brushed and the brush is just lying there. She is a brush whore.

Imagine for a moment how aggravating it is to be in the middle of brushing and to have a cow shove you out of the way and demand that the brush be used on her stupid, short cow fur. Because that's what she does. All the time.

4. Cows have no concept of personal space.
It's a well known fact that having a concept of personal space is a characteristic of more evolved beings. As a royal cat, I obviously have a highly evolved concept of personal space.


Cows, on the other hand, are unaware that there even is such a thing as personal space.

Clara does not respect the personal bubble.

She lies on me when I'm trying to nap.

She body-blocks me and shoves me out of the way whenever it suits her. 

She blunders through the open door and knocks Fairbanks over in her efforts to get outside faster than anyone else.

And her immense girth makes her particularly dangerous. It's almost impossible to get out of her way once she gets moving.


You've heard of a bull in a china shop? Well, she's a cow in a palace. Nobody is safe.

5. Cows have the leg strength to jump over moons.
Even though she has superior jumping abilities, Clara sits by the vanity in the bathroom and squeaks until the One lifts her up and sets her on the counter so she can drink out of the faucet.

Would you allow a cow to do this in your bathroom?

We won't even get into how uncouth one must be to drink directly out of a faucet (Katherine does it too, so that should give you an idea). The fact that Clara insists on being lifted and placed on the counter by my servant is, frankly, unconscionable.

6. Cows do not get chronic kidney disease.
The One recently informed us that Clara has stage 2 chronic kidney disease.

Clara is obviously faking it because it is a scientific fact that cows don't even have kidneys.

So now we all have to try different foods, and Clara keeps changing her mind about which ones she likes. So then the One has to go back to the store and get a different kind, even though the rest of the palace dwellers were perfectly happy with one we had.

Also, if I find out that Clara really does have chronic kidney disease, and it's contagious, there is going to be a reckoning.

The O.K. Corral's got nothing on this showdown.

I believe you can now see clearly how Clara makes life in the palace a nightmare. If I were you (which I wouldn't be because you are not royal), I would develop a healthy hatred of Clara, as well. Simply on principle.

Enough about Groot already!

The One went to see Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 yesterday, and she hasn't stopped talking about Baby Groot since she came home.

It's all "blah blah Baby Groot" this and "blah blah so cute I can't even stand it" that.

From what I understand, this Groot creature is some kind of anthropomorphic tree. The palace is surrounded by trees – many of them recently planted – and I wouldn't call any of them "cute."

Groot can't possibly be as cute as a cat. As demonstrated here.

Baby Groot vs. Kitten

And I will remind you that the kitten in the above photo (the kitten is the one on the right) is nowhere near as adorable as I am. So clearly, if this kitten is cuter than Baby Groot, I am infinitely better than that stupid miniature tree.

So why isn't the One wandering around chattering about how cute I am?

Don't just wander off. That's a serious question!

I'm surrounded by incompetence.

As you may have noticed, the One did not update my blog yesterday after I explicitly told her there would be consequences for such insubordination. And consequences there were.

I spend the entire night sleeping on the ottoman downstairs. That's right. The One's privileges are being revoked, starting with the honor of my presence on her bed while she sleeps.

Everyone knows that the safest place in the world to sleep is next to the queen. This is because queens are always protected by a phalanx (Yes, Nick, that's a word. Honestly, you'd think his royal education would have given him a better vocabulary. I blame his tutors. They spent far more time petting him and telling him he was adorable than teaching him anything. I had them all beheaded once I was in power.) of guards, and those guards are obviously most vigilant when the queen is sleeping.

The safest spot in the palace is wherever I am.

The One slept last night unprotected from assassins, unruly rodents, ninjas, poison, terrorists, tornadoes, and all the other threats I am constantly besieged by. She was not, however, safe from Katherine sleeping on her head or cows walking on her in the middle of the night.

My swift punishment worked. She is penitent and compliant this morning.

Unfortunately, she is also possessed of the worst memory of any human I've ever met. I know she likes to multitask, so I figured I'd do her a favor and dictated an entire blog entry to her while she was in the shower. It was one of the most brilliant blog entries I've ever written, filled with groundbreaking revelations, wit, and the kind of royal perfection only I am capable of.

Then she got out of the shower, spent about fifty times longer than is ever necessary getting ready, fed me and Nick (plus my servants and the cow), made some lists (Why that was necessary, I have no idea. I tell her what I need her to do when I need her to do it.), ate some applesauce, opened all the windows in the house, let Fairbanks outside (I am totally not joking – she seriously did all this stuff while I sat on the ottoman and glared at her!), and finally sat down at her computer to . . . you guessed it! Admit she had forgotten everything I said while she was in the shower and ask me to repeat it!

Well, I am certainly not about to repeat everything I said while she was showering and – apparently – not listening! What does she think I am? An echo?

So, I want to make it clear that the One's faulty memory is the reason you are not basking in my brilliance at this moment. You are missing some of the most insightful commentary you'll ever be privileged to absorb – the kind of profundity that could change your life forever – because the One couldn't be bothered to pay attention while in the shower.

Exactly.

How did we end up here?

When it came time to seek out a new palace, Nick and I each put together a list of the qualities we required in a new ambassador/caretaker.

Here is my list:

• Fashionable and polished, as is befitting of a representative for the queen and royal family
• A confident public speaker and diplomatic communicator
• Has great respect for the long-standing traditions of the royal house
• Completely lacking in ego; willing to put aside everything in service to the crown 
• An excellent strategist with experience quelling uprisings of all kinds
• A skilled brushist

Here is Nick's list:

• Nice

It has become clear to me that something went terribly wrong during the interview process. 

Glorious new era, my fluffy royal tail

Do you see how long it's been since the One wrote down what I had to say?

I know what you've been thinking.

At first, you were ecstatic, knowing that I would soon be bestowing my wisdom upon you daily.

"Finally!" you thought, "The One can't possibly have anything to distract her from serving the queen now!"

During the first few days of silence, you probably gave the One a pass, figuring she was resting up after her job-losing ordeal. But seriously. How much energy does it take to lose something? My stupid brother Nick lost his tail, and that took no effort whatsoever!

Now almost a year has passed.

I understand if you were concerned. I know my most loyal subjects were sick with worry. "Why hasn't Her Royal Magnificence updated her blog in so long?" you undoubtedly thought. "Is she ill, perhaps? Has her kingdom been taken over by miscreant rodents? Is she trapped in a dungeon somewhere awaiting rescue?"

With the One at my beck and call all day, every day, my blog should have been filled with my brilliant insights.

But was it?

No, it was not.

She did do a lot of other things that demonstrated how little she respects me and my title, however.

For example. Instead of remaining at the palace and waiting on me, which is her duty, she went out looking for her job! She finally ended up finding one - not the one she originally lost, but a new one that resembled the old one but wasn't as good. Why she was stupid enough to accept such a poor substitute, I have no idea.

She then managed to lose THAT job after only a couple of months. Obviously, she subconsciously doesn't want a job, or she wouldn't keep misplacing them.

Here is a list of other things the One has been doing that weren't updating my blog:

Watching countless hours of entertainment on Netflix. And when I say "countless," I mean more than the highest number you can count to. Whatever that number is, she watches more hours of Netflix. To be fair, she does have pretty good taste in shows, so I often watch with her. And her hands are generally idle during Netflix time, so I do get petted and brushed regularly. But does my blog get updated? Not even a little bit.

Paying attention to my servants and the cow. This activity is not only a waste of time, it's practically treason. And, honestly, doesn't she know livestock has a purpose, and it is not being brushed or played with? If she updated my blog regularly, she would know because I would share my infinite knowledge on the subject with my readers, and by proxy, her.

Playing Portal. I don't even need to comment on this. Thinking with portals is the least useful skill there is. Nobody has ever been in an important meeting or war council and asked, "Who here can think with portals?" If they did, though, the One could raise her hand and be like, "Me! Me! Pick me!" And then they'd tell her, "You can leave. We were just weeding out the idiots." And she would hang her head and come back to the palace, where she would probably find some other excuse not to update my blog.

Doing "temp" and "contract" work. These aren't real jobs like the ones she keeps losing. They're just a reasons to leave the house and not update my blog.

Letting Katherine sleep on her head. I suppose if she's sleeping, she probably can't update my blog anyway, but still. Katherine is the worst. I don't let her near my head, and nobody else should either.

There are more. Like, for example, right now she claims she has to "get ready for bed." "Getting ready for bed" is code for "change clothes and watch Netflix on the upstairs TV instead of the downstairs TV."

If she doesn't update my blog every day this week, I'm going to put one of those mice Fairbanks sneaks into the house in her shoe. Or maybe her hair. A mouse will find its way into something, that's a guarantee.

The queen shall eat where she likes

The One says I'm not allowed to eat on the bed. She is obviously forgetting who the queen is in this scenario.

A glorious new era begins in the palace.

The One came home today and informed us that she lost her job.

I find it hard to believe that she lost something that large. I mean this "job" she supposedly lost was directly responsible for her absence when I needed her on many occasions.

My stupid brother Nick asked if maybe the job rolled under the sofa, since that's where all his toys go when he loses them. She said it's not under there, but she didn't actually look, which tells me maybe she isn't all that interested in finding it again.

That or she knew she'd spend the next ten minutes retrieving Nick's toys, and we all know what a complete waste of time that is.

Anyway, now that the job is no longer in play, I look forward to finally having a servant who devotes an appropriate amount of energy to my care.

Velociraptors have tails.

My stupid brother Nick has decided he wants to be a velociraptor. Now he's jumping around the house like an idiot, chomping his teeth at people.

I explained to Nick that he is far too stupid to be a velociraptor. Also, raptors have tails. So far, my arguments have been met with further displays of foolishness, complete with his refusal to respond with anything but "raaawwr."

Nick's sudden fascination with dinosaurs is entirely due to the fact that we watched Jurassic World last night. Apparently, Nick was inspired by the stars of the film – four velociraptors who had to save humans from their own stupidity.

Maybe Nick imagines himself as the hero of a movie, which is ridiculous because nobody would even make a movie about Nick, much less make him the hero.

Or maybe he just wants to hang out and be BFFs with Chris Pratt. Katherine said she'd like to be BFFs with Chris Pratt, but I doubt Chris Pratt wants a pig living in his house.

Fairbanks suggested that maybe Nick liked the parts of the movie in which the dinosaurs bit the heads off of their prey. If that's the case, I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on him, especially after the recent mouse massacre.

Here are some of the things I learned from watching Jurassic World. (Oh, and the One says I have to warn you that there might be spoilers. Honestly, if you've seen the preview for Jurassic World – or the first half hour of the movie – there isn't anything I could say that would ruin it for you, but whatever.)

• The Navy trains people for careers as dinosaur trainers.
• Mr. Fisk could have been an evil military defense contractor in another life, although he would have had to give up his personality to do it, so he's definitely better off in the Hell's Kitchen timeline.
• Children will pay attention to each other if their cell phones are broken.
• It takes less time for two adults to run across an island than it does to drive the same distance.
• If a character's tidy clothes and hair get ripped and disheveled, it means she has become a different person on the inside, also.
• People who don't enjoy each others' company on a date will discover they are, in fact, attracted to each other if they spend time running from near-death experiences instead of talking.

Anyway, if Nick jumps across your path, looks at you with his head cocked to the side, and says, "raaawwr," you'll know why.

I hope he watches a movie about the French revolution and feels inspired to execute Katherine.

Nick defends himself . . . I think.

My stupid brother Nick was interrogated today regarding the mouse massacre that occurred the other night. Nick said he thought it went well. I'll let you be the judge.

Transcript of Nick Charles Interrogation
Conducted 6/3/16

The One Who Types: Nick, do you know why you're being interrogated?

Nick: Somebody finally found my tail?

TOWT: No. This is about all those dead mice that were found in and around the palace the other night.

Nick: What mice?

TOWT: The dead ones. You remember – you were lying a foot and a half from one of them. Upstairs? In the bathroom?

Nick: Are you calling me a liar?

TOWT: No. I'm trying to find out who killed all those mice.

Nick: What mice?

TOWT: Here's a picture of two of them. These were found by the laundry room door. Did you put them there?

Mouse Massacre victims

Nick: Where did those mice come from?

TOWT: I was trying to find out if you put them there.

Nick: I've never seen those mice before. Maybe Fairbanks put them there.

TOWT: What about the one upstairs?

Nick: Is there a picture of that one?

Mouse victim #3

Nick: There's no dirt like that upstairs.

TOWT: The picture was taken after I moved the mouse to its final resting place.

Nick: If it's only resting, why am I in trouble?

TOWT: You're not in trouble. I just want to know who killed all the mice.

Nick: What mice?

TOWT: This interview is over. Thank you for your time.

Nick: Can I have a treat?

My official statement regarding the mouse massacre

As I'm sure you've heard by now, all of my servants have come under the One's scrutiny because multiple mice were slaughtered in and around the palace last night.

I, of course, am exempt from suspicion because I am the queen. Even if I wanted to provoke the locals into a war, I would hardly soil my royal paws with such a filthy activity.

Also I was sleeping on the sofa near the One's feet all evening and thus have an alibi.

I understand that the cow has been cleared, although I hardly think that's wise. Who is more sneaky than a cow, I ask you? They're all liars. Show me one cow with any scruples, and I'll eat Katherine's food. Strike that. Just give me Katherine's food and don't make me look at any cows.

Clara had means, motive, and opportunity.

Means: Clara doesn't have to possess any hunting or killing skills to dispatch numerous rodents. She just has to sit on them. She could have killed them all simultaneously just by gathering them together and reclining. How would she gather them together, you ask? Don't be silly. With cheese, obviously.

Motive: Clara is stupid. Stupid cows do stupid things for no reason whatsoever.

Opportunity: Where was Clara all evening? Was she bothering me? Well . . . yes.

But I'm certain there was a period of time when she wandered off to bother someone else. A period of time long enough to sit on a bunch of mice lured into her presence with cheese.

Here you can see Clara practicing her mouse-luring skills.
It's obvious what she's up to.

Fairbanks was seen trotting confidently away from the scene of the first murder immediately before the One discovered it, which makes him a suspect.

Fairbanks is often accused of murder due to the fact that he is my executioner and it is his job to behead criminals on my orders. This is not murder; it is his duty.

Fairbanks has also brought numerous birds, bunnies, mice, moles, and other creatures into the palace over the years to interrogate them regarding sneaky spy activities that birds, bunnies, mice, moles, and other creatures are known to participate in. He keeps these miscreants alive, however, because he has yet to discover a way to get dead spies to provide useful information.

My stupid brother Nick is also a suspect because he was found lying near the first mouse when it was found. But was it the first mouse killed? We do not know. Perhaps Clara put it there to throw suspicion off herself.

Nick has been accused of mouse murder in the past, although he has never been convicted. All the evidence is circumstantial.

On several occasions, Nick has been found near mice that were missing their heads. Perhaps people assume that if he was capable of losing his tail, he is also likely to misplace rodent heads, but I highly doubt he's crafty enough to get a rodent to part with its head in the first place. I mean, look at him!

Nick couldn't even behead a toy mouse.

The last time Nick was found near a headless rodent, he claimed he was trying to give it CPR. While I find it difficult to believe that he could possibly have caught and beheaded the mouse in question, I find it equally impossible to imagine Nick having any clue as to how to perform CPR. He is, after all, Nick.

Fairbanks' habit of keeping hostages alive and Nick's habit of accidentally stumbling across headless mice clearly suggest that neither Nick nor Fairbanks is guilty of this particular crime. At least three of the mice found still had their heads, and all of the mice were definitely dead.

But then, of course, there's Katherine. Katherine looks tiny and innocent, much like a baby pig, but she cannot be ruled out.

The resemblance is uncanny.

I've recommended that Katherine be convicted and beheaded on principle. How do we know that the only reason any corpses were found at all is that Kat had not had time to eat them all? If they do an autopsy, will they find hundreds more mice in her stomach? I say we check, just to be sure. Nobody is safe as long as this menace is on the loose.

Multiple Mice Dead at Palace, Murder Suspected

St. Louis – At least five mice were found dead in the vicinity of Queen Nora Charles' palace tonight. Exact cause of death has yet to be determined, but initial reports suggest that three of the mice suffered from internal injuries sustained as the result of violence. An investigation is underway.

The mice, whose names have not yet been released, were buried in the front garden shortly after they were found.

An unnamed victim of tonight's
massacre awaiting burial.

A representative for the rodents who dwell in the vicinity of the palace said, "I know they say they're investigating, but there's obviously something fishy going on. The bodies were buried immediately. What does that tell you?"

When asked to comment on the rodent representative's accusation, a local fish said, "Every time something like this happens, the rodents drag us into it."

An open letter to the Palace Patrol Association

I found this letter and thought it should be posted publicly.

I don't know who wrote it, but it was obviously someone extremely intelligent, and probably beautiful and deserving of a brushing as well (I'm assuming based on the quality of the writing).

---

Dear Palace Patrol Association,

There's someone who has barnyard animals on their palace property, and I don't like pigs or cattles for the following reasons:

1. They stink.
2. They are rude and fat and ugly.
3. Or they're skinny and bulimic and ugly.
4. They touch my stuff.
5. They have no manners.
6. They breathe my air.
7. They look at me.
8. No, I'm not a bigot against pigs and cows. I love them. They're especially delightful ground up in my breakfast.
9. They push unsuspecting lovely royalty off cliffs.
10. I hate them.

Doesn't this palace association have rules against livestock on the property?

You have until noon tomorrow to ground them into squishy food, or exile them to a desert island, where the pig will have to kill and eat the cow to sustain herself for the first day. After that, the pig will starve to death, and the world will be a better place.

Also, I think you should charge a fine to the disobedient resident who allowed these vermin on the property in the first place. You know where to find her.

Royally yours,
Anonymous

Rumors of assassination plots equal holidays for the queen

While out on one of his adventures, Fairbanks heard whisperings.

No, Nick. Not wiskerings. Gawd, you are so stupid sometimes.

(Sometimes I wonder if Nick is actually related to me. What if he was a stray, commoner kitten who wandered into the royal nursery and somehow got mistaken for a royal kitten? That would certainly explain a few things.)

There is a distinct possibility that he is not related to me.

So, anyway, Fairbanks heard rumors that the rodents - or someone else equally unsavory - were plotting my demise.

Obviously an assassination attempt could have long-term effects, not only on the palace, but on my entire kingdom and beyond – this is how world wars get started, after all – so the One decided it would be a wise precaution to take me to a secure bunker until the threat had passed. 

The bunker also happened to be where the One works, which I must say was surprisingly . . . and perhaps suspiciously . . . convenient. But, I had my own blanket to sleep on, my own food and water, and my own litter box. AND, I got petted and brushed all day by multiple worshipers without having to share the attention with any stupid siblings or livestock.

I was, of course, concerned about the assassination attempt, so I judiciously remained in my blanket fort all day. But that was okay. It meant worshipers had to kneel to address me, which is exactly as it should always be.

My assassin-free blanket fort

The most horrifying video on the Internet

No.

Just . . . NO.

It's this sort of thing that leads livestock to think it's okay to just live in palaces alongside royalty.

Unacceptable.

Something is definitely up.

The One is behaving in an unusual manner. Generally, when she disrupts the routine something bad happens.

This morning, she got ready and left the house just like usual, but she did it an hour earlier than usual. You know what happens when the One gets up and leaves the house early? She leaves and doesn't come back for months! [Editor's Note: I have never gone on a vacation that lasted for months.]

So, we were all on high alert throughout the getting-ready routine . . . but no suitcase ever appeared. Nobody had any idea what was going on.

We don't know when she'll be back, but she didn't put out the self-feeder, so it better be soon.

I have concluded that the One either left for one of her "vacations," with a secretly packed suitcase, or she has a brain tumor.

I quite clearly told the One that she is not allowed to leave the palace again for a year. If she has gone on a THIRD vacation in two months, I will be cross. And you do not want that; trust me.

If she has a brain tumor, I . . . well, I'll still be cross – she IS the one who feeds and brushes me, and she does occasionally type my blog for me.

I remember when Joan – the only minion I ever had that was worth anything – had a brain tumor.

I will never have a better minion. 

If the One does have a brain tumor, and she expects me to feed her from a spoon or hold her close to me when she's sleeping, she can rethink that right now.

I guess I could order Fairbanks to put her out of her misery, if it became absolutely necessary. But not if it becomes necessary at naptime.

Worst criminal investigation ever.

Yesterday while the One was at work. Clara the cow sat on me and nobody did anything about it.

Photographic evidence unavailable.
Because I don't have my own phone.

I informed the One as soon as she walked in the door, expecting my report would be met with wrath in Clara's general direction – or at least an uninterrupted period of brushing while Clara was locked in the garage. Instead she investigated my accusations like she'd been watching too many procedural crime dramas on TV.

Her report to the Blonde One following her investigation went as follows:

The One Who Types: I wasn't home when the incident occurred, and the eye-witness accounts are a little hard to reconcile against each other.

Seriously?? Reconcile against each other? Who talks like that? Nobody. That's who.

The Blonde One: Huh.

TOWT: Nick says Clara was with him all afternoon, so she has an alibi.

Of COURSE Nick gave Clara an alibi. She's his best friend! Any good investigator knows not to ask the best friend where the suspect was when the crime occurred. Best friends always lie. And besides, Nick was napping nearby, so the fact that he was with Clara doesn't absolve her of guilt.

TOWT: Fairbanks says Clara also tried to sit on him, but he got up and left the room, which solved the problem.

So, now Fairbanks is victim blaming me?? Like, if I don't want to be sat on in my own palace, I should have to leave my comfortable spot and sleep elsewhere? Not cool, Fairbanks. You're on my list now.

TOWT: Katherine says she doesn't remember what happened. While she was saying it, though, she winked and meaningfully glanced at the treats, not-so-subtly indicating that her memory might be jogged with an appropriate greasing of her paw. It's unlikely that her testimony would be in Nora's favor, though.

Like there was even any point in asking Katherine. She's useless. I hate her.

Why would anyone adopt this
hideous creature?

TOWT: Clara said she has sat on Nora numerous times in the past, and Nora didn't object, so she was within her rights.

That's not a defense. She just admitted she sat on me!

TBO: Stop right there. I've met Clara, and I know all she EVER says is "moo."

Best answer ever.



Clara still didn't get punished, though.

Dear Cat Sitter . . .

It appears that the One mistakenly thinks she has been granted leave to visit a kingdom called "Mexico."

Obviously, there is no way she'd be given permission to abandon her queen, especially so soon after she disappeared to "Atlanta" for "DragonCon" and was gone for months [Editor's Note: It was four days]. I have forbidden any leaving of any palaces for the next year as punishment for that bit of insubordination. She's grounded. That's all I have to say on the subject.

However, if a year should pass and she should manage to avoid adding any time to her sentence for poor behavior, I have put together this guide to providing proper care for myself and my stupid brother Nick.

A portrait of Queen Nora and Prince Nick

I assume the One will expect you to care for Fairbanks, Clara, and Katherine as well. Fairbanks is useful, so you may care for him in any way you wish, but I would be willing to pay handsomely if you could, maybe, just forget to feed the cow and the other one. It would be perfectly understandable if something like that slipped your mind. Especially if they were to end up locked in a bathroom or stuffed into a box before you showed up.

Official Cat-Sitter Instructions

Nick and I eat squishy food every day. Fairbanks can have squishy food, too. Clara is a cow, so put her outside and tell her to eat some grass. If we're lucky, she'll wander off and forget to come back. There's no need to feed Katherine. She is old and sickly and we're just waiting for her to die of natural causes . . . (shut up, Nick - starvation is a natural cause!).

Nobody is allowed to sit on my counter-blanket but me.

Some people don't follow directions well at all.

Never pet Clara the Cow. Petting her only encourages her to stay. I am certain that if everyone just stopped petting her, she'd wander off and forget where she lives.

Still on my blanket. 

Also, I drink a lot of water, so make sure all the water bowls in the house are filled at all times. Then fill a regular glass with water and set it on a table or counter where I can drink out of it. I don't drink out of peasant bowls, but I do expect them to be full. Just in case. You might have to come over three or four times a day to see to this requirement. I would text you to remind you, but the One won't let me have my own cell phone.

You see what I have to put up with??

Finally, Nick is a big weenie, so you might not see much of him. But if you do, you should definitely pet his face because he really likes that, and he won't speak up for himself, so I have to do it.

Feel free to walk all over Nick.
Everyone else does.

Oh. And I would like to be brushed every three hours. Around the clock, naturally.

Those are your instructions. IF I ever let the One leave town again. I may not.

I will still allow you to come over and brush me every three hours, however.

You're welcome.

When Nicks Cry: A Tale of Immeasurable Disappointment

A spectacular moment of triumph was ripped from my grasp this morning. I may never forgive my stupid brother Nick for interfering in what should have been the best day of my life (besides the moment Nick was deemed unworthy of the crown due to his tail misplacement and I was coronated in his place).

Fairbanks FINALLY agreed to execute Katherine. Whether his execution docket was so full that he just got around to her, or he's been slacking all this time, I can't say. I mean, who really knows where he disappears to when he's outside and nowhere to be found for hours? Perhaps he has been diligently carrying out my orders of execution all this time, and he's just been being humble when I've asked him where he's been, and he's said, "around."

Anyway, it was Katherine's time. Fairbanks lured her into the bathroom with a promise of extra squishy food, knowing the One would be closing the door during her shower, thus preventing Kat's escape.

Once the One was in the shower, Fairbanks attacked. An epic battle ensued (who knew Katherine was such a scrappy little thing?) with snarling and hissing and fur and toilet paper flying.

The aftermath

I listened gleefully for the sound of Katherine's lifeless body falling to the floor.

Instead, the sound I heard was Nick crying. I don't know if you have ever heard Nick cry, but it is a horrible, pitiful sound that echos throughout the palace and sets the teeth of all who hear it on edge.

Apparently, Nick was (in his words) "afraid someone was going to get hurt."

"Of COURSE someone is going to be hurt, stupid," I said, "that's what happens when someone is executed!"

Nick continued to howl, and Fairbanks opened the door to find out what he was so upset about. (Fairbanks either has a door-opening superpower he failed to disclose on his application for headsman, or the One didn't make sure the latch was true when she shut the door.)

So, the execution was put on hold while Fairbanks discussed the concept of "inside voice" with Nick and Katherine ripped off pieces of toilet paper and ate them. Because Katherine will eat anything.

Still alive.

I hate her.

If Nick weren't my brother, I'd have killed him myself, even if it IS unbecoming for a queen to soil her paws with manual labor. I think maybe his brains were in his tail.