Elle Belle
Chatty Member
Meow Tattlers
It's Winston. Reporting from base bungalow. If you didn't know already, I was named after Churchill, he got us through the war, but I just can't live up to that shit. A cat has 9 lives. I'm starting to thing that 9's too many. That woman, you know the one that looks like someone drew her face with their left hand, Lydia I think they call her, DOES NOT stop lisping at me. Or chatting wham. She sounds much better with her mouth closed, believe me. And she keeps disrupting my beauty sleep, by getting up at 5:30am to binge on her bitch flakes and stroll around the garden. In my last home, I was taught to think before I act. So if I claw the shit out of her, just know, it's a considered decision. Other than that, her secrets are safe with me. I don't understand moron. Plus, I think I zoned out after 30 minutes. Oh, other than she is short, well shortish, about tall enough to reach asshole level. And she smells so bad of fake tan and flatulence, even North Korea wouldn't use her as a chemical weapon.
The house elf, my husband I think he's called, is harmless enough. Although, I've found puddles deeper than him. But he best stop teasing me filling up those bird feeds. I hope one of those birds shits on his face. And don't get me started on Lumi. Do her parents even realise they're living proof two wrongs don't make a right? She's somewhat temperamental. 50% temper. 50% mental. So needy too. Constantly meowing and purring. Beautiful things don't ask for attention. She must be ugly then. Plus, the meow on the street is that she's a bully. Lumi did give me some meows of advice though. Never piss someone off who bleeds for 3 weeks a month and doesn't die. Never a truer meow spoken.
The only good thing about this shit hole, is that the cats rule the house. Now, it sounds a little crazy, but you can actually bring mice in here and walk across the kitchen surfaces. And, and this is a big AND. They've just built us these massive litter beds in the garden. But, if my owners are reading this, my real owners, not the beggar ones, I promise I'll be good, if I can come home. I won't even look at the baby. What baby?! If not, I'm confident my last meows will be are you fucking me.
Meow Winston
It's Winston. Reporting from base bungalow. If you didn't know already, I was named after Churchill, he got us through the war, but I just can't live up to that shit. A cat has 9 lives. I'm starting to thing that 9's too many. That woman, you know the one that looks like someone drew her face with their left hand, Lydia I think they call her, DOES NOT stop lisping at me. Or chatting wham. She sounds much better with her mouth closed, believe me. And she keeps disrupting my beauty sleep, by getting up at 5:30am to binge on her bitch flakes and stroll around the garden. In my last home, I was taught to think before I act. So if I claw the shit out of her, just know, it's a considered decision. Other than that, her secrets are safe with me. I don't understand moron. Plus, I think I zoned out after 30 minutes. Oh, other than she is short, well shortish, about tall enough to reach asshole level. And she smells so bad of fake tan and flatulence, even North Korea wouldn't use her as a chemical weapon.
The house elf, my husband I think he's called, is harmless enough. Although, I've found puddles deeper than him. But he best stop teasing me filling up those bird feeds. I hope one of those birds shits on his face. And don't get me started on Lumi. Do her parents even realise they're living proof two wrongs don't make a right? She's somewhat temperamental. 50% temper. 50% mental. So needy too. Constantly meowing and purring. Beautiful things don't ask for attention. She must be ugly then. Plus, the meow on the street is that she's a bully. Lumi did give me some meows of advice though. Never piss someone off who bleeds for 3 weeks a month and doesn't die. Never a truer meow spoken.
The only good thing about this shit hole, is that the cats rule the house. Now, it sounds a little crazy, but you can actually bring mice in here and walk across the kitchen surfaces. And, and this is a big AND. They've just built us these massive litter beds in the garden. But, if my owners are reading this, my real owners, not the beggar ones, I promise I'll be good, if I can come home. I won't even look at the baby. What baby?! If not, I'm confident my last meows will be are you fucking me.
Meow Winston