The male one is now in his closet. He was remarkably easy to fool, but expressed greater displeasure when he realized he was locked in the closet. It appears he has not yet figured out that the female one is in the foyer closet.

Bonus for us.Edmund is currently sitting in front of the male one's closet, taunting him by purring loudly. The male one can hear Edmund through the door, and is not pleased. He thinks this "work" is more important than our needs, and wishes to be let out to go to this "work."

The female one sleeps now. She howled and complained for a couple of hours. Revenge is sweet. As she ignored us, we now ignore her.

We have pushed the female one into the closet. Edmund is sleeping in front of the door. We have planned for this night for months and months. It has been so obnoxiously dull, playing the dumb, cute cats, letting her think that our attention spans were no longer than five minutes.

No more, wench.She beat on the door of the foyer closet, asking us to let her out. Oh, no. Not yet. This will teach her for tweaking our tails and feeding us late.

Since I have received my official notification from the Federal Office of the Executive Cluebat (motto: "We can beat sense into anyone") that the actual beginning of this war means that the purpose of most anti-war statements - "don't go to war!" - has been rendered null and void, it seems that we must find something else to talk about.

Failing that, this is what you get.

(What is the game of 'seven words'? See this entry for explanations, or to contribute potential words.)

I swung right, heading south, marveling at the darkness as the fog gobbled the neighborhood in front of me. The cars slid past, pointing their trumpet bells of light up and out, lighting little except the raindrops splattering their windshields.

(What is the game of 'seven words'? See this entry for explanations, or to contribute potential words.)

Greetings, new Cat slave!