Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

Writer Lady calls to Dobby from her Big Writing Chair. "So what is it we're doing tonight?" "You're writing Mom haven't you caught on to this yet?" Dobby asks in return. "I know that. But what about?" Writer Lady asks. Dobby sighs and rolls his eyes from his comfy spot on the couch, “I guess I have to do everything don't I?” he asks. Dobby enters High Command, "Just pick something. Anything." He looks up at Writer Lady from his spot on the floor. "Oh, just a minute kitty. You got stuff in your eye." Writer Lady says in an annoyingly high pitched voice. She reaches down to remove the offending goo. "When I said 'Just pick something' I didn't mean that." Dobby says. Writer Lady cleans her finger off with a tissue and disposes of it. "I know kitty but, there was stuff in your eye. You know I can't let icky stuff sit there like that." “How do you explain the

Tinkletoes is down. From his position, on his back in the middle of the living room floor, the odor stifling. Tinkletoes tries breathing through his mouth but that just makes it worse. Dobby takes this opportunity to make himself scarce. “Breathe Dragon pee stink through your nose...down you go. Breathe Dragon pee stink through your mouth you're gonna pass out. ” TP giggles. “ Dylan, get that pee outside, Quick!” Peter instructs. “Don't spill . Furnatche stay with me.” Furnatche whimpers looking up at Peter, the dragon takes a seat by his side. Both look down at Tinkletoes. “Things seem to be a little better.” Peter says after sniffing at the air, lightly.    Dylan comes back in the house. “Did you spill?” Peter asks. The four year old shakes his head. “Go wash your hands.” Peter instructs. “Now what do we do about this?” “Give him mouth to mouth.” TP giggles. Peter glares at the faerie, then hears a loud slurping noise coming from t

Dylan's face grows red. Peter moves in between Tinkletoes and Dylan. “What my brother was trying to say is let's each of us come up with a solution. Put them in a hat pull them out and decide what will work the best.” Peter says. “No. No. That takes too long. Let's say what we think. Try it or decide not to. If it doesn't work go on to the next one.” Tinkletoes counters. “Besides. I brought my bag. I'm sure we can fix this in no time.” “With a flamethrower?” Peter asks. “Not the flamethrower, that would just burn the whole tree down. I don't have just the flamethrower in here. We'll find something else.” Tinkletoes reaches into the bag and pulls out a grenade. Holding it up he says, “How about this?” No one answers. “Okay no grenades.” Tinkletoes says, rifling through his bag. “Sir?   Do you have anything that's um...not combustible?” Peter asks. “Flare guns don't count, do they?” Peter shakes his h

                                                   “Oh dear me. Whatever is wrong with this tree?” Writer Lady exclaims looking at the Christmas Tree. “You've been playing with the picture books again Mom, haven't you?” Dobby asks as he enters the living room. Writer Lady is standing across the room from her work scrutinizing. “Well sweet kitty, Dylan needed to hear a story. There was nothing else for it.” She answers. Dobby looks over at the young boy and the baby dragon sitting on the couch. There is a large stack of picture books piled up where Writer Lady had been sitting. “They did help with the decorations. Where's your Christmas spirit?” Writer Lady looks at the ginger tabby smiling. “For it and spirit? The effects are wearing off, at least. Where did I put that?” Dobby asks, pretending to look around. He pulls an empty box out of his pocket and opens it. “Sorry Mom, all gone, the box is completely empty. No Christmas Sp