"Hey there, Peepers. Whatcha doing? Whatcha doing with my stool? Mason told me you were using it. MOUSES!""Don't just look at me, Peepers. Answer my question, please. Whatcha doing with my stool?"
"You're making something, you say? Well yeah, I could have figured that out on my own. Obviously, you're making something. But what is that you're making and how come you're making it, using MY stool?"
"On the other paw, maybe your making something isn't as obvious as it seems. I mean, you could be just sitting there, ON MY STOOL, stirring with that spoon and not making anything at all. You could be just stirring for the fun of stirring, I suppose. Is that what you're doing, Peepers?"
"I know! Are you making a mess, Peepers? Is that what you're making because if so, you're actually doing a pretty good job of it. MOUSES!"
I sat there, staring at the peep, waiting for her to answer.
"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to ignore a cat's questions, Peepers? Huh? Anyone ever tell you that? MOUSES!"
So I sat there a little longer until finally, I decided to take matters into my own paws and rub up against the peep's foot.
"What do you mean I need to stay away from the stove area? What do you mean my assistance is not required? Of all the moused-up, rude things..."
"MOUSES!"
"Lookie here, Peepers. That's my stool you're using to make whatever you're making and I, Seville the Cat, have a right to know why you're involving my stool in whatever it is that you're doing. You hear that, Peepers? Do you? MOUSES!"
"You're making candy? Why didn't you just say so in the first place? Some peeps..."
I started to walk away but then stopped in my tracks. Turning back to the peep I asked, "What kind of candy are you making, Peepers? Anything with nip in it? Huh?"
"No nip, you say? Hmmph! Seems like candy should have a little nip in it if it's gonna be good. So what did you put in that stuff?" and I hopped up onto the kitchen island to get a better look.
"OH MY MOUSES! Is that cream you put in that candy? And butter, too? Hmmm... Mmmm...""Oh Peepers, seems like I could be your taste tester for that candy. When you're done stirring the stuff, perhaps you'd like to send a little my way and..."
"Oof! Ugh! Mouses, Peepers. OF ALL THE NERVE! Plopping me down on the floor without so much as a by your leave. Peepers, I wouldn't need to be up on the island if I had access to my stool but oh no, you've gone and plunked your sorry..."
"FINE. You've gone and sat down on the stool. But please remember, Peepers, it is my stool. It's not yours. Not your stool at all. I use that stool to sit upon when I choose to eat my special-special up on the counter. I know that Anderson sometimes uses the stool, too, but the stool really is mine. Andy just started doing that to copy me, you know. That and to get his paws on my special-special. But the thing is, Andy always asks first before using MY stool. You forget to ask me if you could use my stool, Peepers? Did you forget about being polite because..."
"What do you mean I shouldn't be in the kitchen while you're stirring that hot pot of candy? But I'm sitting here waiting to taste test some of it."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M NOT GETTING TO TASTE TEST ANY OF IT? But it has cream! And butter, too! Cream and butter are some of my favourite things. Not as good as nip, of course, but still..."
"You put sugar in it, too? And corn syrup? Ewww.... Well how come you had to go and do that? Way to go, Peepers. You just ruined all that butter and cream. MOUSES!"
I sat very quietly for all of five minutes, thinking about the rudeness and stupidity of my peep.
"You know something, Peepers? Seems to me you must have taken a grouch pill this morning because you're awfully grouchy today. What happened to your Christmas spirit and good cheer?"
"You say you ran out of the Christmas spirit after the first hour of sitting over a hot stove, stirring the pot of caramels, huh? And you ran out of good cheer sometime after that? Hmmm... I can see how that might make you a little grouchy but what I can't figure out is why you're making candy in the first place. I mean, you've gone and all but ruined all that butter and cream and you didn't even use any nip. Why are you making those moused-up caramels anyway, Peepers? WHY?"
"They're for a gift? Really? Like a Christmas gift or something? Mouses Peepers, if that's what you're doing, you're doing it all wrong. Seems pretty silly to me to spend all that time doing something that makes you so cranky, all in the name of spreading around a little Christmas cheer. Seems to me that if spreading around the Christmas cheer uses up all the Christmas cheer you have, your spreading of it is kind of defeating the whole purpose. I mean, just look at how rude you have been to me when all I was doing was asking why you had stolen my stool. MOUSES!"
"Okay, okay... Calm down, Peepers. I'll just go take a little nap in the family room or something. Maybe when I wake up you'll be in a better mood. Try to work on that, would you Peepers? Work on being in a better mood, okay?"
I stomped off into the family room muttering to myself, and anyone else who would listen, "She should have just wrapped up the butter and cream and not messed around with the cooking part at all. Seems to me, the butter and cream would have been a way better gift than these caramels she's making. I know that's what I would have preferred. Plus, maybe she wouldn't have made herself so grumpy-wumpy in the process. And maybe, she wouldn't have stolen my stool.Peep #1 needs to work on her attitude, for sure. More Christmas spirit and less of all of that other stuff. MOUSES!"
