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

“I knew conjuring up a demon was a bad idea.”  Peter says. Dylan looks up at Peter, nodding in agreement. Tinkletoes squats down speaking quietly with the two boys as Carp watches. “We didn't have a choice.  That dragon in the bathroom is huge.  He almost reaches the ceiling.  We agreed as the men of this house that conjuring a demon was the best defense.  We can't back down on this now.  Majority rules.  Men are better at war than women.  This has to be a unified front.” The boys look at Tinkletoes uncertainly. “We're the men.  We know what's best.  We have to stick together on this, protect the females, they are fragile .” Carp looks everywhere but at Tinkletoes when he makes this last comment. “Duuude.  You rock .”  Ray calls across the room , giving Writer Lady a Rock hand.  Ray turns to Tinkletoes, Carp and the kids.   “ Writer Lady is totally kicking demon butt.  It looks like TP's having a

She rises slowly from her seat taking a first step.   There is no noise.  Her slippered foot lowers to the floor without anything impeding it.   She takes another step, then another.  The skirt of her gown flutters against her ankles. Unsure of her direction she keeps walking looking for a source, any source of light.  In the endless darkness the only light she can find comes from a cauldron. Flames burst from the top flickering and spitting at the air above it.  The flames burn so brightly she wonders how they are being contained by the cauldron at all.  The light emitted within the fire makes the cauldron itself glow warmly.  The sides seem to be thinning and she wonders how much longer it can burn before a stray spark ignites her...carpet?   Alighted by the flames is the familiar face of a dear loved one managing all. “Dobby what's going on here?”  Writer Lady asks. “Shh!” “There's a strange fire burning in a cauldron in the middle of my living roo

“Ugh.” Writer Lady groans letting her head fall to the table. Dobby looks up from his bathing spot on the floor nearby, tongue sticking out. The room remains quiet.  The ginger tabby resumes his bath. Writer Lady watches her sweet kitty as he slurps his way to a clean tail without a second look in her direction.  Sitting back up, she lets her head drop to the table again this time groaning louder.  “Ugh!” She repeats, sighing after, she turns her gaze to meet Dobby's eye. “ Is something wrong Mom?”  He asks. “ Oh...nothing.”  She says. Dobby returns to his bath. Seeing this, Writer Lady groans-sighs-groans again. “ You're groaning.”  Dobby says. “ Am I?”  Writer Lady asks. “ Yeah.  So what's wrong?” “ It's just that, I don't know what to say.” “ Blocked again?”  He asks. Writer Lady nods, her head rubbing against the table top.   “I'm afraid it's over.  I have no more interesting thoughts, new ideas, no more s

Writer Lady sits at her computer perusing well...everything.  Stopping to check her horoscope, it's late afternoon so it's fairly safe.  Predictions aren't allowed to come to pass after four p.m.  It's the law. T.P. pops into the room flying over to hover above her left shoulder. “Hi T.P.  How are you doing?” Writer Lady says without looking away from the monitor. “What is Writer Lady doing?   She's not writing.” T.P. says giggling. “I was just puttering.  Checking stuff out.  Right now I'm looking at my horoscope.” “T.P. can tell you what is going to happen.  T.P. sees everything.” The faerie giggles. “Thanks, but I think I'll wait.”  Writer Lady says. Flying across the desk T.P. blocks the screen where the prediction is showing. “T.P. will you please move?   I can't read the screen.” “Writer Lady doesn't want to know.   Remember?  Make your actions and your words match.  Silly woman.” “I thought T.P. sees

 Saturday morning comes early pulling Writer Lady from a long night's slumber and happy dreams. Rising, she brews coffee and prepares to make herself comfortable planning on watching the sunrise as she enjoys that first cup of coffee sitting in the living room. Writer Lady opens the shutters and realizing she's still in her robe, closes the shutters instead imagining the beauty of the sunrise because if she wants to actually see the sunrise she has to get dressed first and that's just not happening now. She sits on the couch enjoying the serenity of the day. Dobby lays on the far side of the room camouflaged by the Christmas tree alternately napping and gazing at her adoringly. “It's so quiet.” Writer Lady says. “Kind of nice isn't it kitty?” Dobby looks at her and blinks contentedly. “The holidays went well too except for the whole candy overdose thing last week. I was so sick.” Dobby ignores her and goes back to his nap.