I sat at my desk, starin' at the computer. Beads of sweat ran down my forehead and onto my cheeks before inching their way along my handsome whiskers.Drip. Drip. Drip.
I glanced downward, makin' sure my perspiration wasn't drippin' onto the keyboard.
What was I gonna to do?
Almost four hundred dollars in bit coins. That was their demand. Did I have four hundred dollars in my froggy bank? I didn't think so. Could I get that amount by sellin' nip? Probably not. At least not in a few hours. Peep #1 said my nip plants had to grow a lot bigger before harvestin'.
WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?
I wiped a tear from my eye. And then another. And then one more.
WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?
I peered more closely at the screen before me.
Upon receiving cash I will destroy dirt on you and you would never again heard about me.
The bloggin' kitty in me immediately started to correct the blackmailer's lousy grammar. I'll correct it and send it back, I thought, before I stopped myself short. The blackmailer was after money, I realised, not tutoring in English. Although goodness knows some English tutorin' was SERIOUSLY needed.
MOUSES!
Three hundred and ninety-nine dollars. They might as well have asked for a million.
MOUSES!
I studied the blackmailer's e-mail address. It wasn't one I recognised, and that was for sure. Ganhard blah blah blah at bol dot com. BOL stood for Bark Out Loud. That was doggy-speak. Was I bein' blackmailed by a dog?
MOUSES!
Nah, I had lots of doggy pals, and there wasn't a blackmailer in the pack. This was much more likely the work of the Weasel Syndicate, for sure. Weasels impersonatin' dogs. Now that I could believe.
MOUSES!
They had dirt on me. Dirty pictures, they said. Pictures of me nekkid, they were gonna post all over the Internet.
AND they knew all my social media accounts, too. Every single one. I gulped, hard. Would I be wakin' up to pictures of me nekkid all over Facebook tomorrow mornin'? All over Twitter, too?
WHAT WAS I GONNA DO?
"PEEEE-PRRRRSSSSSSSSS....." I cried. "Peepers! I'm in desperate need of your help."
The peep came runnin'. Well hobblin', actually, for she managed to stub a toe while racing into the room.
"Peepers, I need four hundred dollars, and I NEED IT RIGHT NOW."
The peep looked confused, although to be honest, no more confused than her usual look. MOUSES!
"Look!" and I pointed to the e-mail still up on the screen. "I have until 6:40 this evenin'. If I don't pay the money into their Bitcoin Wallet by then, they're gonna completely ruin my reputation, for sure. MOUSES!"
The peep's look of confusion grew even deeper, if you can believe.
"See? Peepers, are you payin' attention? PEEPERS! Pay attention to me. I need to send this Ganhard heir o' de casa guy $399 by this evenin'. I'm desperate, Peepers. DESPERATE, I say. I can pay you back. Honestly. Maybe. Kinda. Perhaps in a very-small-instalments-over-a-number-of-years kinda way."
"What's an heir o' de casa?" the peep asked.
"I don't know, it's part of his e-mail address."
The peep furrowed her brow.
"Peepers, please don't make me beg. PLEASE don't. Beggin' is not becomin' of a cat. PLEASE...."
Liftin' me into her arms, the peep sat down at the desk, and read the offendin' e-mail from beginnin' to end. "They have pictures of you naked," she said.
"I KNOW!" I cried in despair. "And they're gonna post 'em all over my social media if I can't get my paws on the money I need."
"But Seville, you post naked pictures of yourself all the time. You're a cat. You don't wear clothes. You don't even wear a collar!"
"I KNOW!" I cried more loudly. "And they're gonna post 'em... Oh," I interrupted myself. "Ohhh..." and realisation finally dawned. "So you mean..."
The peep nodded.
"Oh. Well that's kinda stupid of 'em, don't you think? You're right, my pals have seen me nekkid MILLIONS of times. More nekkid pictures won't come as a surprise. Even nekkid pictures of those two long-haired freaky marmie brothers of mine, after their havin' lion cuts, wouldn't exactly be indecent. Well... Well not really. Not quite. Close, but you know... Nothin' too bad, I suppose. Certainly nothin' illegal."
The peep smiled.
"Looks like I won't be needin' that money after all, Peepers. I think I'll just let this one slide. If they wanna post pictures of me on the Internet, they can post all they like," and I smiled the smile of a Cheshire Cat.
The peep got up. She started to hobble away.
"DON'T STUB ANOTHER TOE ON THE WAY OUT" I helpfully cried.
Sittin' back at my desk, I read the e-mail once more. "Threatenin' to post nekkid pictures of me," I laughed. "Of me, Seville the Cat. What will these scammers think of next? And IMAGINE their thinkin' they could get money from me. MOUSES!"
"Oohhh..." I whistled. "But THAT'S interestin', isn't it?" and I looked more closely at the screen on the computer. "Well gosh golly darn be, would ya look at that."
I thought for a moment. Then thought a bit more. "OH PEEEE-PRRRRSSSSSSSSS....." I yelled, and waited for her return.
"Hey Peepers, funny thing. It turns out, this here ol' blackmail e-mail wasn't for me, after all. It appears to have been addressed to YOU."
"What?" the peep gasped.
"Peepers," I grinned, "what did you get up to on World Nekkid Gardenin' Day, huh? Huh? WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU DO? And who the mouses was takin' your picture?"
MOUSES!
