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

    Dedicated to Xavier (Booger) White (9) who asked if Dobby could ever be an Action Hero.  Writer Lady sits at her computer merrily typing away. Dobby enters the room slowly. He is uneasy but this is important. It's time they talked. “Mom?” “Oh Dobby. There you are. Look. See I'm writing already! No wasting time on FB.  No skulking around on Twitter.” Writer Lady turns to look down at the ginger tabby and smiles proudly. “That's great Mom.” “Do you remember last week?” “Yeah.” “You spent three nights hanging out on the couch?” “I do remember. It was so cold and you snuggled. On Purpose!” “You laid around watching TV, practicing other writing, reading.” Dobby says. “When you could have been online making me famous.” “Dobby kitty, I told you these things take time. You have to earn that kind of admiration. You have to practice and work for it. You have to work very hard.” Writer Lady answ

*Inspired by an idea from Xavier "Booger" White (9).  The door to the darkened bonus room opens and Writer Lady enters turning on the light. “Dobby kitty! Mommy's home!” As her eyes adjust she sees Dobby sitting on the entry's step, tail thumping. “You're late!” “Oh...” Writer Lady says raising her hand to her chest. “Dobby, you scared me.” She looks down at her phone. “I'm not that late. It's not even 5:30.” “Saturday night!” Dobby says sarcastically. “You are being redundant. Cats + sarcasm = repetitive. One or the other not both . Since you're already a cat guess what that means.” “Where were you this time?” Dobby demands. “The farm.” “What took you so long? You left the farm twenty minutes ago. It only takes 14.5 minutes to get here. What were you doing for those other 5.5 minutes?” Dobby asks. “First of all how did you know that? TP hid in my coat pocket

Dobby sits on the living room floor watching Writer Lady who sits on the couch. The room is silent. The house is silent except for the sound of the running furnace and the humidifier. Two separate things not one. Just so you know. "Mom, it's after nine you could go to bed now." Dobby says. He has seen this look before on Writer Lady. It's not a good one. It's Wednesday night, not much on TV. It's been a long day. No fun on the horizon... "Dobby it's funny. It really is. This moment right now is one of my worst fears. Did you know that kitty? The next fifty years of this." Silence abounds. "Oh no...it's starting." Dobby mutters. TP and I came up with a plan for this. What was the code word? I can't remember... "Dobby, you know what I wonder?" Dobby's eyes grow bigger as she talks, more quickly and less steadily with each passing moment. "I wonder if in fifty years when I final

 “No. That's not it.” Writer Lady is sitting at the computer, muttering and sounding frustrated. “Gunnery Blue?” She says. Looking over her shoulder at the stormtrooper standing next to the doorway in High Command. “Crap! That's not it either.” Hearing her frustrated, grumblings from his cozy spot in the living room Dobby enters wondering what the fuss is about this time. “Mom? What's wrong?” Dobby asks. Writer Lady stops her Internet surfing and glances back over her shoulder at the stormtrooper. He has been guarding High Command since Christmas and he still doesn't have a name. It's really starting to bug me.” “It's not real Mom. It doesn't need a name.” Dobby says. “If it takes up space in my world and I can name it then it needs a name.” Writer Lady says. “No it doesn't.” Dobby quietly argues. “Yes it does.” Dobby shakes his head. “No it really doesn't.” “Yes it does. You have a name.” Write

Writer Lady sits down in front of the computer. "Mom?" Dobby asks. "Yeah?" Writer Lady answers and then sips on her coffee. "So, what ever happened to Monitor Man?" "Good question,” she answers. "Let's check the papers." Writer Lady says. Writer Lady starts looking for articles about Monitor Man. "So according to these papers you brought me, Monitor Man either has left Hollywood to be the leader of an obscure Third World country in the South Pacific, was abducted by Aliens, or fell in love with an Alien and ran off to an obscure Third World Country in the South Pacific. This one says he went to South Argentina which is located in France? Dobby, what kind of newspapers are these anyway?" Writer Lady looks at the front. "Kitty these are tabloids." "So." Dobby says. "These are not a reliable source for news." "Just call him and ask him what he's doing