the aftermath

So let me tell you 'bout the aftermath of...

Hmm...  Perhaps aftermath is too strong of a word.  It does make it sound like there was total disaster and mayhem and the like.

On the other paw...

On the other paw, there was total disaster and mayhem and the like.  So aftermath, it is.

MOUSES!

Okay, so perhaps there was no actual mayhem.

Nope, still goin' with aftermath, my friends.

MOUSES!

So we'll start again.  Let me tell you 'bout the aftermath of the birthday celebrations on Wednesday.

Firstly, there was cake.  Yes, there was cake.  Birthday cake, to be exact.  But said birthday cake was not the birthday cake, I, Seville the Cat, was expectin' for MY birthday.  No sirree.  Nope, that ol' birthday cake was carrot cake, and do you know somethin', my friends?

Do you?

Well in case you don't, carrot cake contains carrots.  And I, Seville the Cat, don't like carrots, you see.  So obviously, it wasn't a very appropriate cake to serve on MY birthday.

Which was disastrous, for sure.

And it gets worse!

Not only did the stupid cake contain carrots, which I don't like, but it DIDN'T contain any of the things I wanted to have in MY birthday cake.

Good things.

Things like salmon and tuna and shrimpy kinda things.

MOUSES!

And not only that...

And not only that, but the cream cheese icin' was the most stupid cream cheese icin' I ever did see.  Not a single ounce of catnip in that icin'.  Not one!  Nope, not even one.

I'm tellin' ya, I don't know who baked that cake but whomever it was did an awful, disastrous job of it, for sure.

Scratch that.  I know exactly who baked that cake.  And her name would be Peepers.

Stupid peep baked a stupid cake.

AND THERE WAS NO BIRTHDAY CAKE FOR ME.

On MY birthday.

So you see?  Aftermath is the appropriate term to be used, for sure.

MOUSES!

And don't even get me started on the lack of prezzies with MY name.

'Course, I was able to circumvent that little issue with a little switcheroo of the tags.  Peepers was x'd out and replaced with Seville.

So that particular disaster was avoided.

'Cause one birthday aftermath a year is more than enough, for me.

Don't you agree?

MOUSES!

*******************************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

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!

*******************************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.