The Agony

Dobby enters the den to find Mom typing at the computer. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, she is sniffing intermittently. “Mom what are you doing? I thought you were working on the new batch of cupcakes for Tinkletoes. We are still paying for my survival skills training.”

Mom looks up from the monitor, drying her nose with a tissue. “Yes. I'm almost done. I just stopped to write a little poem to Internet. I miss it so.”

“Do you feel better?” Dobby asks.

“A little bit. Let me read it to you.”

“Do you have to?” Dobby asks.

At the exact same moment Mom starts reading her poem to Dobby oblivious to his last statement.

“Oh Internet my darling. Come back to me my love.

I miss you so very desperately. Let me give you a hug.

I never appreciated you completely until you were gone.

Please come back I need you! Don't leave me all alone.”

Dobby sits quietly and listens...

“Precious Internet, I miss you....”

Dobby yawns and listens...

“No one else has ever known me so well.”

Dobby scratches his ears and listens...

“Life without you, quite simply is a social net-worker's Hell!

All my cyber friends who need me. Whatever shall they do?

Without out my jokes, wit and wisdom.

Women like me are so few.”

Mom stops reading and Dobby raises is head from his rectal cleansing. “That was good Mom. Excellent poem.”

“This is just the first section, I am writing an Epic Poem. Like the sagas the singers tell of at court during medieval times. My poem is an epic saga of love, loss, despair! Not to mention an eerily darkened monitor.”

Dobby whistles and TP the faerie materializes floating in the air to the kitty's right side. One by one books stack up in a pile in the middle of the den's floor. A line of faeries materializes. Each faerie picks up a book. Most disappear as quickly as they appeared. One faerie stands still reading the book. He reads a little then giggles, reads a little and giggles. The words “silly humans” escapes his lips as our unknown faerie turns a page and laughs even louder.

“What?” Mom turns around to find the source of the disturbance. “Wait a minute. That's my book.” Mom says, reaching for the thick novel. The unknown faerie disappears in a tiny puff of smoke leaving shiny pieces of paper on the carpet where he stood seconds beforehand.

“That was my “Game of Thrones” book. I hadn't even started reading that one yet. Dobby, how could you?” Mom looks at Dobby with intense sadness.

“I told you after the last incident, if you made any more “Game of Thrones” references the books were out of here. This is getting way out of hand.”

“I said the word 'medieval'. That's all.”

“Today it's 'medieval' and the next thing I know you are challenging the mailman to a duel with a longsword.”

“I have to carry a sword. Rape is too common in the seven kingdoms not to.”

“The mailman is eighty years old if he's a day. The poor man pissed himself, dropped his letters and ran.”

“That will teach him to wander my neighborhood! When all of my current and future enemies both domestic and foreign do the same our kingdom will be secure!” Mom announces. “Winter is here, and we are ready!” Mom declares holding up her medieval dagger with pride.