Sunday 29 July 2018
a bull in a china shop
Andy, bein' Andy, furrowed his brow. "Wha?"
"Luckily for you Anderson, I, Seville the Cat, know exactly what your problem is."
"No need to ask. No need to thank me, either. I'm more than willin' to tell you what your problem is."
"You havin' a seizure or somethin' there, Andy? You keep repeatin' the same word which, by the way, isn't actually a word at all."
Andy looked dumbfounded. As usual. Then he said, "But Seville, I've heard you say wha before."
"It's different for me. I make up words all the time. It's part of my charm, you see. But IT'S NOT PART OF YOURS. MOUSES!"
"Because there's only one wordsmith in this here family, and that would be me," I explained. "Now let's get back to that problem of yours. MOUSES!"
Andy sighed a loud sigh before acquiescing. "Whatever you say."
"So the thing is, Andy, you're like a bull in a china shop, you see."
"This ain't no china shop," Andy replied.
"Andy, Andy, Andy... First of all, there ain't no such word as ain't. MOUSES! And secondly, I see you're not denying you're like a bull. Again I must say, MOUSES!"
"But you just used it yourself. The word ain't, I mean."
"Yeah, yeah..." and I waved off Andy's complaint. "I used ain't for effect, you see. That's different. It's TOTALLY different, for sure. But let's get back to your problem. You know, your problem of your bein' like a bull in a china shop. MOUSES!"
"Actually Seville, the peeps say I'm more like a..."
"A lumbering ox?" I interjected.
Andy growled. "No, the peeps say I'm like a lion. Peep #1 says I walk exactly how a lion walks." He scowled. "And lions don't lumber."
"Are you SURE?" I asked.
"Yes I'm sure. I've never ever EVER seen a lion working as a lumberjack. Not once!"
"A what? A lumberjack? What? Oh," and I shook my head and sighed, "I see."
"I've never seen a lion working in a sawmill, either."
I sighed again, this time, stampin' a paw. "STOP TALKIN' ABOUT LUMBER, ANDY. MOUSES!"
"You're the one who brought it up," Andy said, lookin' down at his paws.
"Hmmm... I guess I kinda did," I agreed.
Although truth be told, I was ONLY agreein' so that my brother would stop talkin' about wood.
"Anyway... Thing is, Andy, like I said before, you're like a bull in a china shop." I held up a paw. "I shall explain."
"This ought to be good," Andy said, sittin' back on his haunches. "How exactly is our house like a china shop?"
"Oh for the love of mouses," I said. "I'm not talkin' about our house. I'm talking 'bout you, and how you're.. You're... You're... How you're..."
"How I'm what?" asked Andy.
"How you're... Oh! It's so frustratin' tryin' to explain stuff to you, Andy. Now how should I do this? Hmmm... Okay, you know how you're clumsy, right?"
"I am not!" my brother said indignantly. "You take that back."
"If the peep could take back all the stuff you've broken..."
Andy's mouth gaped wide. "You take THAT back, too! I am not clumsy, and I don't go around breaking things..." He paused. "I mean, I don't break things all of the time."
I raised a brow.
"I just.. Sometimes... I..." It was clear that Andy was gettin' flustered.
"Andy, you leap before you look, and quite frankly, with paws the size of yours, when you're goin' around leapin' haphazardly all over the place without lookin', you land on stuff..."
Andy looked at his paws.
"AND STUFF GETS BROKEN," I finished.
"I'm just strong, Sivvers," Andy pouted. "I'm stronger than I realise at times. Peep #1 says I don't know my own strength."
I narrowed my eyes and rubbed my jaw with a paw. "You sure 'bout that, Andy? 'Cause all I've ever heard her say is that you have really big paws."
"Well I do have big paws," Andy nodded. "I'm a pretty big cat, Seville."
"Andy, my man," and I rested a paw upon my brother's shoulder. "You're huge."
"It's 'cause I'm part Coon, they say," he explained. "Maine Coons are supposed to be big."
"Whatever. Thing is, Andy, when a cat weighs like twenty pounds, a cat can uh..."
"Well..." I wavered. "Andy, you remember when Peep #1 was making pretty little meringues that day, and you came up to her and started rubbin' up against the backs of her legs?"
Andy thought for a minute before shaking his head.
"Okay, you remember when Peep #1 was TRYING to make pretty little meringues that day, and you came up to her and started rubbin' up against the backs of her legs?"
"Oh yes, I remember that," Andy nodded. "The peep was making meringues, but they were anythin' but pretty."
"And do you know WHY the meringues weren't pretty?" I asked.
"Because the peep is a lousy baker," Andy replied.
"Well yeah, that kinda goes without sayin'. I mean, does she ever make nip cookies or nip cake or nip strudel? OF COURSE NOT. The peep NEVER makes good stuff like that. But the day I'm talkin' about was more your fault than hers, except, of course, for her forgettin' to add nip to the meringues in the first place, but..."
"Seville, how is it my fault the peep forgot to add.."
"THAT ISN'T MY POINT! My point," I began again," is that when she was tryin' to make the nipless meringues she was makin', you came up to her and started throwin' yourself onto the backs of her legs, and you practically knocked her right over! That, brother dear," and I again stamped a paw for emphasis," is why you're like a bull in a china shop. See?"
"What does my saying hello to the peep have to do with the price of tea in China?" Andy asked.
"Because... WAIT A MINUTE. I never said anythin' about tea bein' sold in China. China shop. Bulls. THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. NOW do you see?"
"Not really," Andy confessed. "Perhaps you should start over again from the beginning."
"I would if I could, Andy, but seriously, I think goin' over this once more might very well drive me crazy. MOUSES!"