What's wrong with you people?
Attention cohabitants: The bed is engineered to accommodate either two humans OR one cat. I have been magnanimous and permissive when it comes to pushing these parameters beyond spec, but things have now gotten out of hand and we need to run a tighter ship from now on.
First, regarding the dog: If you want his smelly snorting carcass in the bed with you during your own shift, that's your rat to swallow. But when the bed's on Shmooltime, please keep him to the couch, chair, floor, or the eight dozen pillows, cushions, and blankets you have stashed throughout the house for him. I will allow an exception for when the Robot of Death is at large — it is only natural for him to seek out my protection under those circumstances.
Next, to Fabio: Yes, we are brothers and have lived our whole lives in close quarters. But I have now built for us, by fang and claw, by spit and blood, a great and expansive realm. We can spread out now (you are a natural when it comes to spreading out), each according to his whim. I like high places, you like the floor. I like a padded throne, you like ... cardboard. In short, I think we can leave the togetherness of the womb behind us now.
Finally, you people and your guests: I don't begrudge you the simple pleasure of worshipping your big box from the comfort of the bed — especially when it's just the Woman and the Melodious Freckled Lady. So long as you continue to massage me during your visit, I am willing to share the bed for a reasonable period of time.
But when the Man and Fabio's Doorman join you, usually with the Rodent and Fabio in tow, you are pushing the standards of decency, and probably in violation of the health codes as well.
What's the saying? "Three's company, but seven's a damned unruly mob that's going to get slashed to pieces if someone doesn't give Shmool some space RIGHT FREAKING NOW?!"
Anyway, food for thought.
First, regarding the dog: If you want his smelly snorting carcass in the bed with you during your own shift, that's your rat to swallow. But when the bed's on Shmooltime, please keep him to the couch, chair, floor, or the eight dozen pillows, cushions, and blankets you have stashed throughout the house for him. I will allow an exception for when the Robot of Death is at large — it is only natural for him to seek out my protection under those circumstances.
Next, to Fabio: Yes, we are brothers and have lived our whole lives in close quarters. But I have now built for us, by fang and claw, by spit and blood, a great and expansive realm. We can spread out now (you are a natural when it comes to spreading out), each according to his whim. I like high places, you like the floor. I like a padded throne, you like ... cardboard. In short, I think we can leave the togetherness of the womb behind us now.
Finally, you people and your guests: I don't begrudge you the simple pleasure of worshipping your big box from the comfort of the bed — especially when it's just the Woman and the Melodious Freckled Lady. So long as you continue to massage me during your visit, I am willing to share the bed for a reasonable period of time.
But when the Man and Fabio's Doorman join you, usually with the Rodent and Fabio in tow, you are pushing the standards of decency, and probably in violation of the health codes as well.
What's the saying? "Three's company, but seven's a damned unruly mob that's going to get slashed to pieces if someone doesn't give Shmool some space RIGHT FREAKING NOW?!"
Anyway, food for thought.
so sayeth Shmool on Monday, November 21, 2005
1 Comments:
shmool, this most recent outpouring of eloquent wisdom has made the melodious freckled lady snort in glee.
Post a Comment
<< Home