Gin and a moat

[paxillin]

Not by one of the Queens this time... But we can drink here.

Are you annoying my little doggy friend, hmm?

I'm sorry - are you talking to me? I'M annoying no-one. All I'M doing is sitting here washing my bits and minding my own business. If small yappy dogs are unable to stop themselves from going bananas when they see me it's hardly MY fault.

You're blaming the VICTIM here, Dragon.

oops, was that a load bearing wall? Anyway I've been shopping and found this huge black dress with pumpkins on it! and a skull tiara and neon orange heels to go with it and... Oh GodMortificado are you licking yourself? tell me when it's safe.

If will never be safe.

I have discovered the joys of not giving a monkey's!

Why did I waste so many years NOT BEING A CAT?!?!?!?!?!

This is GREAT!

BTW - nice frock Queen

How rude. Bit rich coming from someone with fluorescent fur. If you wouldn't mind not moulting all over my new dress only I'm sure I can still see it with my eyes shut. What was in that injection, exactly?

"Stuff"

That's what "That Vet" told me. 'I'm giving you an injection of some "Stuff".' he said. 'You will feel a little prick (a vicious lie - I never laid a paw on him!*) and then all of your problems will melt into the ether.' (That bit was true)

He was quite right. When you are a cat, life, the universe and everything is sooooo simple.

1. YOU (the CAT) are the most important thing in the world - actually you are the ONLY important thing in the world.

2. The world revolves around YOU (the CAT) and YOUR WISHES.

3. Nothing else matters.

4. Everyone else can get stuffed.

5. You (the CAT) don't actually give a toss whether any/everyone else lives or dies except in the way it may impact your comfort (e.g. it is important to have someone to rub your fluorescent cat hair onto)

*The Old Ones are the Good Ones

I will moult as, when, and where I want. You are lucky I am a bald cat and that testosterone injection only gave me luxuriantly extravagant whiskers.

And some bollox.

Six bloody months in the underworld and not one of you noticed. Thanks SO MUCH.

So that's where you've been!

I noticed that therewere far fewer strange clutches of newborn mythical beasts was no sign of you. I just assumed that you were shipwrecked on a desert island with the massed Band of the Grenadier Guards possibly with convivial company, and you were just shagging your way through them treating it as a holiday.

Lovely see you again ,crosses fingers behindback>

Do you like my claws and whiskers?

They're fab, aren't they?

Which mouthy peasant royal subject were you again? Not the would-be pope and pestilent dragon owner surely?

As for all my children, I had a perfectly good brood of dragonlets some time ago, though god only knows where they went.

They were fuck all help getting out of the sixth circle of hell, I can tell you that much. Ingrates.

Yes - that's me!

I have been blessed with feline DNA as a result of an incompetent veterinary procedure (had to go the the vet as the walk-in centre won't let me across the doors since the Toblerone incident - you know how it is . . . . )

Now I am largely cat (in every sense) which means I do what I like, when I like and don't give a damn about anyone else - just use and abuse them. It's even better than being Queen, because I get to chase mice!

How cool is that?

Are you still able to fill Mortificado with terrifying hybrids? Will they be they usual three-eight species mixes plus ghost thrown in for good measure? Mind you, Schadenfreude has become quite prolific with her experiments in the absence of your productive loins.

Well excuse me Princess but I've been busy trying to get schadenfreude booked into a reputable vet to sort out that bollock problem. It's not easy finding... well anyone reputable in Mortificado really. We really should put more effort into the education system.

As for the dragonlets, they're not yours, I had them dna tested. They do that online now.

is that you pax?

Told you I am bad at name changing. I forget who I am immediately.

I think that's probably a side effect of schadenfraude's concoctions.

Perhaps it's the intended effect.

Blame me as much as you like - Frankly, my dear - I don't give a damn.

I've just received an appointment letter from "Fly-by-Night Reputable Vetinary Services - All Types of Procedures Undertaken, No Job too Small, Neutering While-U-Wait, Also Claws Trimmed".

WHO BOOKED ME IN TO THIS BLOODY QUACK?

Well, all I can say is that you'd better be wearing chain mail gloves and kevlar body armour BECAUSE I'M DAMNED IF YOU WILL GET ME INTO THAT CAT BOX!

It's not a cat box, it's a state of the art resting chamber with velour pillows and some dangly string decoration, look how it wiggles!

Psst, Queen, if you come running and screaming I'll jump on top of her, we can stuff her into the, erm, resting chamber together with the blanket and slam the lid shut.

Where are the bloody falconry gloves?

When did we get bikes? Where's my bike?

No bikes. The bike shed is for the kids to smoke behind. Well, there is the exercise bike.

Oooooooooh!

String!