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

“What was that?”  Writer Lady asks. “I don't know.”  He answers.   Tinkletoes turns to Carp.    “Did you say something?” “No.” Both kittens are climbing on Carp and the assassin is scratching chins and rubbing ears.  There is a smile of contentment on his face.  The “No” startles Smudge who slinks away.  Spots jumps off of Carp's boot and lays down on the floor showing his belly. “That's no way to train soldiers Carp.” “You gave me kittens to train not people.  Kittens.” Writer Lady turns to watch Carp as well.  “A kitten showing its belly is a sign of trust.  It could be seen as submissive behavior.”  She says turning back to more immediate problems. “Carry on Training Officer.”  Tinkletoes commands with a nod. Carp does not respond.  The kittens are chasing his hand. “Why don't you do that lady stuff with her?”  Tinkletoes asks. “Lady stuff.  Do you mean girl talk?” “Yeah that.” “Go away.”   Writer Lady says. Tinkletoe

Tinkletoes stops just outside the entry to the living room.  “Things are kind of cramped in here so follow my footsteps exactly or you may step on something.” “Okay.”   Writer Lady whispers. They start shuffling into the room.   Writer Lady matching Tinkletoes' movements shuffle for shuffle. “Um...” She says as she touches Tinkletoes lightly on the arm. “Yeah?” “Shouldn't you use the flashlight to check the floor?  That way we'll know where everyone is and we won't step on them.” “No.  I was just in here.  I remember where everything and everyone is.   I'm a mercenary.  Mercenaries have sharp eyes and keen memories.” “You're holding a flashlight, shouldn't you use it?  It will help prevent an accident.” Tinkletoes turns around to face Writer Lady pointing to himself he says, “Mercenary.  Sharp eyes.  Keen memory.  I've got this.”   He turns and walks this time with the confident gait of a well trained soldier, slipping in

I am a Storyteller.  This is my purpose.  To communicate to my fellow humans that they are not alone.  Helping the human race to re-discover the things that lightens ones load [not loosens because that would be a laxative] with amazing stories, tall tales, the magic in everyday things, and the humor in us all. [Looks around for humor, stands up, checks seat, looks under both feet, sniffs at pits]  It looks like I lost mine, this is awkward. Find out what you love and what the world needs then combine them. I love writing.   What does the world need?  The world needs to laugh. I have been telling tall tales since I was potty trained, writing since I was a teenager (usually long sweeping monologues of tragedy that only a young girl can communicate or writing myself into my favorite television shows).  Eventually I started creating some things that were more solid: a humorous blog, a children's book, a cozy mystery with a few laughs.  When I found myself without a jo

“My turn?” House asks. “There's nothing wrong with me.” She says. “I would have to agree. House is beautiful.” Mural Man says. “Oh Mur...” House purrs. “People say I wrote fluff.” Carp mutters. “Dr. TP can you check Mural Man's brain. There might be a head injury that's causing this behavior.” “No.” Dr. TP says. “The brain injury you are suggesting would create a distinct crinkling to his surface. It is House that has...um...how should I put this? Issues .” “Issues? What issues.” House says. “Not enough respect.” Dr. TP says. “You don't show Paper Man.” “Mural Man.” Carp, House, and Mural Man say, correcting the faerie in unison. “Mural Man.” Dr. TP says, not acknowledging his error. “The same respect he shows you, you do not show him. You are selfish, demanding, and most bossy .” “I am not!” House yells. “Am I? AM I?” She demands looking at Mural Man. “If I was you would say something. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't