Nah, me neither.
Sometimes though, I do wake up in the middle of the night, feelin' the need for a snack.
Now when I say snack, I mean a few pieces of dry kibble, and a lick or two of water, on account of the restaurant not bein' open at two in the mornin'.
Well that's what the peep says anyway.
I mean about the restaurant.
About it not bein' open, that is.
BUT I'M WORKIN' ON CHANGIN' THAT.
Like I told the peep this mornin', "You know, it might just be two in the mornin' here, but I bet it's already breakfast time in France."
Yeah, the peep didn't go for that one either. MOUSES!
But who says breakfast can't be served at two in the mornin', anyway? Who says we have to wait 'til seven or eight? It's not like there's a law against servin' breakkies at two, is there?
Seriously, is there? Anyone know?
Hmmm... I think it's probably more like a rule.
And RULES, my friends, are meant to be broken. MOUSES!
And who made up the stupid rule, anyway? Some stupid peep? Some stupid peep who didn't want to get up in the middle of the night to serve me my breakkie at two?
Yeah, I bet that was it. Then said stupid peep came up with some arbitrary time - that was convenient for them - and turned it into a rule.
That's just the kind of thing a stupid peep would do.
No Peepers, I'm not callin' you stupid.
But if the shoe fits...
Oh yeah, you don't wear shoes to bed.
Well I don't wear shoes at all. So there! MOUSES!
Well OF COURSE I'm not makin' any sense. I've been up since two in the mornin', practically dyin' of starvation, 'cause all I could find to eat was a measly pawful of kibble. MOUSES!
The lack of food is makin' me delusional.
If only these paws could learn how to open tins...
Hey Peepers! If you're too lazy to get up at two in the mornin' to prepare me a tasty little snack, how 'bout hirin' someone else to...
YOU DON'T HAVE TO YELL. MOUSES!
My gosh she's touchy this mornin'. Cranky as all get out, for sure. You'd think SHE was the one kept up all night due to a rumblin' tummy. A tummy rumblin' on account of it bein' empty as empty can be, and in serious need of a snack. A snack better than a measly pawful of kibble, followed by two slurps of water. Water without ice, I might add.
Truth be told, had Peep #1 gotten up when I FIRST started askin' her to get up, she could have prepared me that snack, then gone straight back to bed. Then she could have slept through the rest of the night.
But oh no, not my peep. Instead of haulin' herself out of bed at two, as requested, she chose to repeatedly tell me - FOR OVER AN HOUR - that the restaurant doesn't open 'til eight.
And what restaurant is this anyway?
No, seriously, I'd really like to know. 'Cause at least in a restaurant, a kitty gets to read a menu and select the breakkie of his or her choice, rather than bein' stuck with whatever some peep plops onto a plate before sayin', breakfast is served, without so much as a smile upon their face.
Talk about poor service.
And the peep wonders why I never leave her a tip.