Ah-ha, there you are. What took you so long? I mean I've been standing shouting for hours.... well it would have been if you hadn't come, and that's a fact, for sure.
And if you hadn't come just think what would have happened. Mouses!
OK best not as I know these things tax you pretty little head so. Just be assured that things would, have got very sticky, very fast. Purrs
Anyways, it was just as well I happened by as I, being the feline I am, detected something brewing up a storm.
Yes ma'am, there I was, minding my own business, which of course being a cat means I have to mind everybody elses business too. Sort of goes with the job description and contract, i.e. being a cat equals looking into the business of others and where appropriate, said business is to be sat in, on or under.
What's that peepers, ol' wombat faced one? Where's it say that, you say?
What? What do you mean you haven't seen any contract!
Yes you have, THE CONTRACT, you know the one you get when I came and took up gainful employment in this residence. OK so technically I employ you, and you pay me in kind, but that's all covered in the contract small print.
When I say small print, I'm not being rude or sizist, no ma'am, I'll not condone that sort of intolerance just because someone has long legs, like you peep, doesn't mean they should be penalised. In actuality the small print on the contract was the standard size and proportionate to myself, and the rest of the contract was especially enlarged for you, ol' lanky one. Purrs
Anyways, how could you not remember? The contact was the one given in blood, and exchanging of gifts.
Now look peepers, ignorance of the law is not an excuse. When I gave you that first mouse, and you received self same mouse and gave me a bowl of kibble, the contract was sealed. I'm really surprised you didn't notice, I mean the damp salty patch in the office and flipper marks on the floor should have been a dead give away, if not, the whiskers and fishy breath. Mouses!
Enough of the legal stuff, it does say in my contract that the Princess of the first part, that is me, has the right to inspect each and everything of the parties of the second part. OK I know you don't necessarily comprise a whole part, but I think fractions do count and are rounded up to the nearest whole.
Anyhow, there I was, upholding my part of the contract when I heard this noise. Sort of a whining noise. Not a coffee grinder sort of noise, that's more like your false teeth trying to get out the glass. No, this was more akin to.....
Oooh, did I mention the smell?
Well there was a smell too. If a smell could be a colour, then this smell would be a black, and grey smell, with wisps brown and hints white.
Not the sort of smell you forget, I can tell you.
That and smoke. Smoke is a smell that hangs around like... er... well, smoke really.
Just like those rabid weasel slippers of yours were, the ones that strangely took a high dive into the moat last month, but the Kraken kindly regurgitated for you... Them self same cursed slippers that not a fortnight past missed the laundry chute and went down the waste chute and ended up on the dung heap. You know those slippers, same ones that accidentally somehow caught fire last week. The ones that I really don't like, those slippers, sort of smelled like them.
Oh, did I mention the smoke?
No! Well there was smoke too, wispy smoke. In fact very much like the smell of smoke would look, but worse. Yup definitely more black, with a hint of cinder and cinnamon.
Did I mention the flames? High flames set to engulf the Palace, and worse still melt the fridge and catch light to nip supply?
I didn't? OK good, because there weren't any. Well not yet anyways, but had you not come now, when I called, there may well have been some, and then where would you have been, huh?
What's that peep, ol' puffing one...... Erm, on that point, why are you puffing? I mean it's only six flights of stairs, five doors, and a rather nasty brace of spiders on the first floor landing to negotiate to get here. I mean you should fly that sort of thing, maybe even use the banisters! No scrub that, they've not been sanded and yet and the medical insurance doesn't cover splinters. Mouses!
Or you could just do what I do, and use the downstairs door, works perfectly well for me each time I want to get here, maybe you should try my route?
Anyways, why did you get me here? I do have things to attend to, like sorting out my empty food bowl, and the mouse crisis. Well there isn't a crisis yet, but there will be if I don't catch one soon. Mouses!
The whining you say, smells, smoke, and the non flame flames you say?
Oh those! Yup I have seen those, down the kitchen. In fact those non flame flames I mentioned could well be flames by now, so no point you standing around here chatting best you head off and see what needs doing.
Now whilst you're at it, you may want to check on those buns you put in the oven an hour ago, should be done by now I reckon. Nip topping I believe, with a hint of exotic spices... well more nip actually.
What's that you say, peep, they were Easter Buns you say, for Easter? Well I dare say they may well have been but I bet now they'll be very hot, cross and very burnt buns. And that's a fact. Mouses!
~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~