So here we are in the final ten days before Christmas, and once again...
Once again, Peepers is behind schedule on pretty much everythin'. Cards haven't yet been sent out. She's still bakin'. She's still knittin'. She's still doin' pretty much everythin' that should have been done before.
I, on the other paw, have done everythin' I need to do.
'Course, the fact that I don't actually HAVE anythin' to do to prepare for Christmas, helps.
But that's beside the point. The point is: I, Seville the Cat, am one hundred percent ready for the 25th. BRING IT ON, I say. BRING IT ON! I'm good to go. I'm organised and whatnot. I'm...
What? What's that, Peepers? What's that you're babblin' on about now?
I ALREADY ADMITTED I didn't actually have anythin' to do to prepare for Christmas. Fact is, though, preparations to do or not, I'M all ready for the big day.
But wait a minute! I did have one thing to do. I had my letter to write to Santa, and I wrote that weeks and weeks ago. Well, two weeks ago, to be exact. I wrote it on December 1st as I always do; and then I put it in an envelope which I gave to you to take to the post office. You remember that, Peepers? Huh? HUH? So you see? I DID have somethin' to do to prepare for Christmas and I, Seville the Cat, bein' an exceptionally well-organised kitty, managed to get that all done on time, and...
Peepers, what's that funny look on your face? You eat a bad mouse or somethin' like that?
Yeah, I know, you don't eat mice. So uh... So did you get into a bad batch of the nip?
Not that catnip is ever bad but sometimes it gets adulterated with mint or lavender or - Heaven help us - citrus.
So anyway, Peepers, why do you have that funny look on your face? Maybe you're constipated. Need more fibre in your diet? You really should eat a mouse, then, fur and all. That'll get your insides movin', for sure.
Okay, so now your face is turnin' kinda green.
Peepers, if you're gonna cough up a hairball or somethin', DON'T DO IT ANYWHERE NEAR ME.
'Cause that would make ME queasy, for sure.
What? What's that, Peepers? Speak up there, would ya? I know you're babblin' on about somethin' but I can't make heads nor tails of....
YOU WHAT? YOU WHAT? YOU FORGOT TO MAIL MY LETTER TO SANTA?
Of all the no-good, good-for-nothin' peeps.
If a kitty wants somethin' done, a kitty needs to do it himself.
DON'T BLAME ME if the phone bill is extra big this month. Not my fault I have to go and phone Santa instead of writin'. And it's not my fault I'll probably be put on hold for like an hour or two and then, when I finally do get through, I'll need to have a chat with my pal Rudolph 'cause we haven't had a good chat in ages. And I'll probably need to chat with Mrs Claus, too, on account of her enjoyin' chattin' with me so very much. Don't go blamin' me, Peepers. I'M not the one who forgot to go to the post office.
Remember to mask up, too.