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

  Recognizing the upper hand, Tinkletoes stands up. He exits the living room and crosses the hall way with reignited confidence. The self-proclaimed mercenary knocks on High Command’s door. “Go Away.” Knock-knock-knock. “I know the sound of your knock. Go Away!” Knock-knock-knock. Writer Lady has already began talking before she opens the door. “Banned means you can’t come in, if you don’t believe me I will be happy to show you a dictionary.” “There are no Nathans.” Tinkletoes says. “That is your argument?” Writer Lady eyes Tinkletoes suspiciously. “Yes.” “Would you mind stepping into the living room please.” Writer Lady heads for the living room making it a point of closing the door to High Command behind her, just in case some Halo playing, baked good eating Neanderthal tries to pull a fast one. “If you would turn your attention to Exhibit A and tell the jury what you see.” Tinkletoes says. “A full living room, an empty cupcake container..

  “Are you attempting to tell me what to do not only in my own home but in High Command, my writing room, my private space?” “Umm...ye-ah?” “What makes you think you can do that?” Writer Lady asks. Tinkletoes shifts his weight and looks at the floor. “What makes you think you can do that?” She asks more emphatically. Nothing happens. She lowers her head to catch his eye. “My eyes are up here.” She says pointing to her face. “What was your logic?” Tinkletoes makes a face. “Lo-gic.” “Umm…” Carp leans in and whispers to the self-proclaimed mercenary, “What were you thinking when you told her what to do.” “Being the alpha male within this dwelling it is my prerogative to dictate what is done in said dwelling.” “Let’s see...you’re not my father, not my husband, and you don’t pay the bills. You don’t even live here. And even if you were one of those things you still would have no say as to how I spend my time.” Writer Lady glares, calling up