Monkey, make me a drink.
On it.
Wait, what’s with the fire?
EVIL! That’s what.
I like evil.
Me too.
It was a GOOD drink, Ima nap here on the remote.
Smell the paw…it smells like…freedom. ………Wut?
Author
Two marrow bones and two marrow bones and two marrow bones!
………the hell?
Cheap! For this pretty face, from day to day…
To the least stab-able of tricordered time!
I think he’s doing Shakespeare again…MacBeth, maybe?
And all our yeasty days have flighted ghouls
Away too hasty breath—out, out, brief fondle!
Think of England, think of England, think of England…
Life’s but a stalking shadow, a pre-payer
That spills and wastes his sour bourbon wage
Look, you need to just STOP.
Be heard no more: it is a tail
flicked by an idiot, full of sound and furry!
…signifying nothing.
At least you got that last part right.
It was the best of cats, it was the worst of cats…A City of Two Tails.
An age of good views, an age of bad views.
I iz the season of light.
And I am darkness!
I think you cats may have lost the plot.
Now is the waiter of our disco tent!
Oh Great Hairy Ghods, he’s going down the rabbit hole again.
Let me tell you about my book, little brother…
Hi Folks,
I apologize for the long hiatus in Monday Meows and other posts. It was a rough spring for a variety of reasons including some pretty nasty RSI in my arms and hands. As I am getting close to recovered both mentally and physically, I am hoping to be back soon.
Hi folks, sorry I haven’t been posting Monday Meows for the last two months. I got swamped. I intend to start up again in February if not sooner (ETA we’ve had 40 inches of snow since Jan 28, so it’s going to have to wait a bit longer because I’m still shoveling). In the meantime, have some cute cats.
Two bees, or…not two bees, that is a good question.
I thought we were doing the balcony scene.
Oh stings and arrows, oh outrageous fortune!
Should we tell him?
It wouldn’t do any good.
True dat.
Two dice: two sheep. No more; and buy a sheep, to say, we…end?
Where did you find this guy?
He’s my brother, and I do love him, but…well, yeah, that.
The heart-ache and the thousand neutral socks that fish is heir to…
Can somebody make him stop?
To sheep: perchance two dreams: ay, there’s the rube!
Maybe, a gentle push…
I like puss. In boots?
I wanted to, but I just couldn’t do it.
What if he hit his head and it got worse?
__________________________________________________
With thanks to Jonna and Steve for guest cat Mithril.