a super scary decoration

Hey Peepers!  Whatcha up to?

Nothin', huh?

Hmmm...

Why?  Why was I wantin' to know what you were doin'?

Well...

Hmmm...

Okay, so it's like this, Peepers: Tuesday is Hallowe'en.

Yeah, yeah...  I know Hallowe'en is for the kiddies.  I know, kiddies, not kitties.  Don't you be worryin' about me.  Saffron and I will be inside, snug as a couple of bugs.  Not that we ever are bugs, by the way, but of course that goes without sayin'.  But we'll be inside long before the kiddies start goin' door to door, lookin' to score themselves some candy.

But uh...

Well...

Well I was thinkin'...

Actually, Saffron and I were both thinkin'.  YES, we do do that sometimes.  There's no need to make that kinda face.

MOUSES!

But the thing is, Peepers, Saffy and I were thinkin'...

Again with the face.

SAFFRON AND I WERE BOTH THINKIN' that since you haven't put up any Hallowe'en decorations to make the house look all scary and whatnot, we kinda thought...

Well we figured...

We kinda figured and thought...

Okay, so it's like this: Saffron and I have decided that if you don't bother usin' a comb on your hair Tuesday mornin'...  Not that anyone will actually notice, mind you.  BUT if you don't bother combin' your hair AND you don't bother with any makeup AND you maybe get dressed up in a long black skirt or dress...

Well...

WELL WE'RE PRETTY SURE we can pass YOU off as a super duper scary Hallowe'en decoration.

Not that anyone's likely to notice the difference.

MOUSES!

What?  What did I say?  

Oh come on there, Peepers.  Don't go off in a huff.

Gosh darn it, I see we're gonna have to pass her off as an OVERLY SENSITIVE, super duper scary Hallowe'en decoration, for sure.

Maybe a troll, rather than a witch.  I've heard trolls are an overly sensitive lot.

MOUSES!

Wait!  Wait a minute, my friends.  WAIT ONE MINUTE there, if you will.  If you've been thinkin' about all the adventures I've had on Hallowe'ens past, why not check 'em out as an extra special Hallowe'en treat for yourself?  I'll make a list of 'em right here.  Right in one spot.

MOUSES!

Hallowe'en 2014:  The Broom Closet

Hallowe'en 2015:  A Hallowe'en Adventure & And Now, the Conclusion

Hallowe'en 2016:  The Hallowe'en Visitor

Hallowe'en 2017:  The Hallowe'en Ball

Hallowe'en 2018:  The Contest

Hallowe'en 2019:  The Haunting

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

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.

the dark side

Well that's rude.

MOUSES!

*furiously types an even ruder response*

TAKE THAT, YOU LILY-LIVERED, WART-INFESTED, ROTTEN FISH BREATH STINKIN' TROLL.

MOUSES!

*sits back with satisfaction and waits for a reply*

You ever notice?  You ever notice, my friends, how some peeps out there have nothin' better to do than troll around on social media makin' rude and ugly comments, and...

WHA???  What the mouses?  He said WHAT???  Well I'll show him.  I'll tell him where to go.  I'll...

I'll...

I'LL...

I'll tell him his mama wears combat boots.  NO, I'LL TELL HIM his mama WOULD wear combat boots if her mug wasn't as ugly as his, and...

No, that's mean.  That's mean for his mama, I mean.  Besides, I have no idea what she looks like.  His mama might be the most beautiful woman on earth for all I know.

On the other paw...

On the other paw, she might, in fact, look exactly like him.

MOUSES!

I shall be the bigger cat, and I shall leave his mama out of this debate.

Debate?  More like WAR.

MOUSES!

LISTEN HERE, YOU FLEA-INFESTED SCUMBAG OF THE SLIMIEST SCUM THAT EVER OOZED OUT FROM UNDERNEATH THAT OL' PRIMORDIAL ROCK, YOU MAKE ONE MORE COMMENT LIKE THAT LAST ONE, AND I'M GONNA MAKE YOU REGRET EVER LEARNIN' HOW TO TYPE.

MOUSES!

Peeps.  They think they're a match for a cat.

What's this now?  *jaw drops*  He's callin' my peep - MY PEEPERS - A WHAT?  Of all the nerve.  I left his mama out of my comments.  The least he can do is leave out my peep.

Although he is kinda right about the peep's hair.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT.  The point is, this fight is between me and him, and he has no business insultin' my peep.

Even if her hair does sometimes look like she went and stuck her finger in an electrical outlet.

MOUSES!

"Seville, what are you doing with my Facebook account?"

Defendin' your honour, Peepers.  You can thank me later.

MOUSES!

What's he sayin' now?  Is he still trollin' around insultin' my peep?

Hmmm...

HMMM...

Looks like he's given up for a bit.  Must have realised he was no match for me, Seville the Cat, THE KEYBOARD WARRIOR OF THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY.

"Seville!  Remove that picture right now.  It's disgusting!"

But I...  I was just...  I was just catsplainin' to this idiot how things actually work in this world, and how he's as stupid as the mother of all stupid rocks.  He's not very bright, you see, and he needs the added visual aids.  THUS, the picture of what I left in the ol' litter box this mornin', after eatin' that brick of stinky ol' cheese.

"So you're in an on-line fight with a troll."

Uh-huh.

"Using MY Facebook account?"

Uh-huh.

"And exactly what makes your behaviour any different from that of the troll?  Why is he a troll but you're not, even though you're BOTH behaving in the very same manner?"

*rolls eyes*  Because I'm a cat, Peepers.  Cats can't be trolls.  FACT.  Plus...

Plus, look what he wrote about you, right here.  See how he described your....

"He said WHAT about my hair???  And he had the nerve to say I wear a mask not out of care and concern for others during a pandemic, but rather to prevent people from turning to stone after looking at my face?  And then he said I...???  SHOVE OVER, SEVILLE.  Your peep has some typing to do."

*grins from ear to ear*

Welcome to the dark side, my peep.

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.

the nerve

Oh. My. Mouses.

Of all the nerve.

I can't BELIEVE she did that.

Arrrggggghhhhhh!

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin', what has the peep done now?


Well to be honest, on ANY OTHER given day, your question would be totally valid.

Any other day?  Heck, what am I sayin'?  Any other time of day is more like it, 'cause let me tell you somethin', the peep does moused-up stuff, multiple times, EVERY day of the week.  I know.  I live with her, you see.

MOUSES!

But in this particular case, it is not the peep with whom I am annoyed.

Did I say annoyed?  I MEANT to say, bothered.  And insulted.  And even a little...  Hmmm...  Angry, I do believe.

MOUSES!

So this is what happened to me this past week:

Those of you who follow me on Facebook might be aware of the thoughtless, hurtful, and nasty comment someone left on my fan page.  It was awful.  It made both the peep and me feel really, really horrible, so...

So I replied to said comment, tellin' this person how what she said was not helpful in the least.  How it could serve no purpose but to make my peeps feel sad.

And then, in a second comment...

I corrected her grammar.

Oh, I'm not apologising for that.  Oh no sirree.  It had to be done, you see, because her grammar was atrocious, to say the least.  Bad enough to get her a six by nine foot cell in Grammar Jail, for sure.

MOUSES!

But then I had second thoughts.  I wondered if maybe I should simply delete the comment and ban the woman from my fan page.  That way, neither I nor the peep would ever have to deal with her again, AND she wouldn't be embarrassed by havin' had her grammar corrected by a cat.  'Cause some peeps take offence to that.

MOUSES!

So I went back to the post, and do you know what I found?

NOTHIN'.  Nothin' at all.

MOUSES!

So of course, I figured she had seen the errors of her ways, and taken her comment down.

But then....

But then, I found out through a pal, the comment was still there for all to see.  All but ME.

Do you know what she had done?

SHE. HAD. BLOCKED. ME.

That's right, my friends.  She had blocked ME, Seville the Cat.  

MOUSES!

Of all the lousy, good-for-nothin', Poopy Panty PeePs.

MOUSES!

I had been robbed.  ROBBED, I tell you.  Robbed of the opportunity to block that cruel and heartless peep.  There I was, all set to block her, ONLY TO DISCOVER she had blocked ME!

MOUSES!

So...

So I dug in my claws, and...

Yeah, yeah...  Sorry 'bout that, Peepers.  I know I was sittin' on your lap at the time, but I had to dig my claws into SOMETHIN'.

MOUSES!

So anyway...

So anyway, I have her name, rank, and serial...

Okay, so maybe I don't.  Maybe all I actually have is her name, but if she ever comes back, she had best watch out for a certain marmalade cat.

'Cause we marmies, we don't get mad.

OH NO...

We marmalade cats don't get mad at all.

Instead, we much prefer...

To get even.

MOUSES!

the scandalous cad

So there I was in my office, workin' hard on my blog and totally mindin' my own business, when...

Yeah, I was TOTALLY mindin' my own business.

When alarm bells started doin' their dingin'.  There were alarm bells and sirens, EVERYWHERE.  There was even an alert on the television.

MOUSES!

Okay, so maybe there weren't actually any alarms or sirens doin' their dinger.  And maybe there wasn't a TV alert, either.  MAYBE it was really more of a case of the first peep walkin' into my office and openin' her mouth.

Of course, when Peep #1 opens her mouth, what comes out can kinda sound like the screechin' of a siren, for sure.

It's a proven fact, you know.  And I'm not the only one who says it.

MOUSES!

But I digress.  Let's get back to that alarming message.

So there I was, hard at work on my blog, when Peep #1 said, "Hey Sivvers, did you read what some guy wrote on your Facebook page?"

Of course, I immediately raced over to my fan page, on Facebook, and started reading.

My jaw dropped.

My pallor paled.

My eyes started burning.

A torrent of tears streamed down my face, and in dismay I watched as they formed a puddle right there on the floor beneath me.

What?

Why?

HOW?

HOW COULD ANYONE WRITE SOMETHIN' AS NASTY AS THAT?

AND ABOUT ME, TOO.

MOUSES!

I looked at the post I had previously made 'bout how I was writin' a book-length adventure, and just below my good news...

Some STUPID GUY wrote...

He wrote...

MOUSES! 

Of all the good for nothin' guys out there...

In all the no good gin joints of the world...

AND HE HAD TO GO COMMENT ON MINE?

Okay, so my Facebook fan page isn't exactly a gin joint.

Isn't exactly?  It isn't at all.

And it certainly isn't no good.

But still... 

But still, I, Seville the Cat, was annoyed.

And rightly so, too.

Of course, that was AFTER my heart had been broken.

*sighs*

But the peep said to me, "Don't worry, Sivvers, keep your chin up.  There's always going to be that one guy who just can't help himself but to say something nasty."

And you know somethin'?

SHE WAS RIGHT! 

Which just goes to show you, there's a first time for everythin', for sure. 

MOUSES!

I mean, who does this guy think he is, anyway?  Has he written any books?  Does he know how to write?  Does he even know how to READ? 

MOUSES! 

So even though this stupid guy went and TOTALLY SPOILED the announcement 'bout my writin' a book... 

TOTALLY spoiled it, for sure. 

And even though he went and TOTALLY RUINED my good mood...

You know what?

I, Seville the Cat, am gonna forgive him.

'Cause truth be told, maybe, as the peep said, he just can't help himself.  Maybe he's just naturally nasty.

And MAYBE I can work his name into my book.

As a villain, of course.

Or perhaps as the victim.

Or MAYBE a SCANDALOUS CAD.

Who ends up at the bottom of very deep river, wearin' blocks of cement-fashioned shoes.

'Cause you know somethin', else?

THAT'S the kinda thing we writing types do.

MOUSES!