Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday Dear Sivvers.... Happy Birthday to...
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about now?
Au contraire ma peep. It is too my birthday. Yup, today is most definitely my birthday, for sure.
MOUSES!
Because.
Because is too an answer. You asked a question and I answered it...
...WITH BECAUSE.
Ipso facto, methinks your stupid claim is defuncto.
MOUSES!
What do you mean I'm not makin' sense? What do you mean?
Oh pish posh, Peepers. Pish posh. I shall explain.
And for anyone at the back of the room, the followin' is what we cats mean when we say we have to catsplain everythin'.
MOUSES!
Peepers, what's yours is mine and what's mine is... Not yours. Therefore, what's yours is mine and what's mine is mine. Are you with me so far?
Good. So yes, today may in fact be your birthday. And by that I simply mean that on this date, several millennia ago - give or take a century or two - you were born. Your birth certificate probably does say something 'bout your bein' born on this date.
Still with me, ol' peep of mine?
Good. Okay, so now remember what I said before: What's yours is mine. Mine. Mine as in... MINE.
So what WAS your birthday is now mine.
Got it?
Good. So ipso facto, your birthday is now MY birthday; and therefore everyone should join me, Seville the Cat, in singin' a birthday song to me. ME. Me.
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about now?
Oh yeah. I do say that quite often, don't I. I do often say things along the line of your singin' bein' more like caterwaulin' than actual singin'. Hmmm...
Okay, so we'll try this: I'll sing Happy Birthday to myself with my ever-so-melodious voice and while I'm doin' so, you can help me open my prezzies.
They are mine, Peepers. The prezzies are mine. I thought we already went over all this.
My gosh, a cat's catsplainin' is never done.
Peepers, the prezzies are mine. ALL mine. MINE. Doesn't matter if your name happens to be on some of 'em. Remember, what's yours is mine so therefore.... They're all mine.
'Course, if any of 'em happen to be bottles of stinky stuff or boxes of chockies, you can have those. You know, on account of my not likin' that kinda stuff. BUT THE REST OF 'EM ARE ALL MINE.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEEPERS SIVVERS!
MOUSES!
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Remember to mask up, too.
