The other day, my Kingdom came under attack.
It began, like all invasions, with a small scouting party that soon became an all out invasion.
I discovered the first one when I noticed Ivan standing in the hallway, fully poofed with a look of panic in his eyes. This is not particularly unusual and so I asked him the usual three questions:
"What are you doing?"
"Why are you doing it?"
"When are you gonna stop?'
Ivan, nearing hysterics, pointed down the hallway and replied "Boss! Look! The male two legger has lost his hairy lip thingy!!"
I looked and discovered, much to my surprise, that Ivan seemed to be right for once. There at the far end of the hall was what appeared to be the male's mustache (sans the male's face). It quickly became apparent that the male had not simply misplaced his mustache, but the mustache had chosen to escape of its own volition, for it was at that very moment moving across the floor, obviously intent upon some sort of mustache pilgrimage.
This was not completely without precedence. For the last several years, I have noticed that the hair on the front of his head has been slowly migrating to the back of his head, but I had never witnessed a total abandonment before. Perhaps mustaches are a bit faster or more mobile.
I decided to investigate it anyway. As I stalked it, I noticed that it was not a mustache after all. Instead, it appeared to be some previously unknown form of life. It was about two paw-lengths long, covered in rusty colored fur and seemed to have neither a head nor a tail. It moved along the floor by virtue of about a gajillion tiny legs. Now my curiosity was truly piqued. So I did what any scientifically curious person who encountered something completely unknown in the natural world would do........
I ate it.
Needless to say, it tasted like chicken.
Well, it tasted like chicken that had been left out of the fridge thingy for a week, stored in a dirty sneaker and liberally basted in toilet water. Don't ask me how I know what that tastes like, it's a long story and I'll save it for another post. Suffice it to say that I know the taste.
Having consumed the interloper, only leaving a couple of hundred tiny feet in the litter box as evidence, I put it from my mind and returned to my normal nocturnal activities.
The following morning I discovered to my dismay that several more of the fuzzy worms (furms) had entered my house. Ivan was busily chewing a few and had a couple of more trapped under his paw. As I entered, he turned to me and asked "Mwumppf gwom bofth?"
"Perhaps later" I replied.
It was at this point that I noticed the sound. It was a rumbling coming from both my front and back decks. Running to the bay window, I quickly realized that the rumbling was being caused by millions of tiny feet steadily making their way across the wood in search of entry into my house.
The furms were launching an all out invasion. Not even Ivan could eat them all.
As I lay pondering, trying to decide the best course of action to repel this multi-legged menace, a strange and wonderful thing happened. Suddenly my yard was filled with bird thingies! As though someone had rung an avian dinner bell, bird thingies of all sizes and shapes swooped, hopped and fluttered about in a furm feeding frenzy. In a matter of hours, every single furm was consumed. Scattered about my yard lay dozens of over-stuffed birds too full to fly.
I spent the next hour attempting to figure out a way to get outside and feast upon the bird thingies. I pushed at the window screens, I batted at the door knobs. I slapped Tiger Lily. Finally, I reached a decision.
There had been enough slaughter.
I shall let the bird thingies live.
It began, like all invasions, with a small scouting party that soon became an all out invasion.
I discovered the first one when I noticed Ivan standing in the hallway, fully poofed with a look of panic in his eyes. This is not particularly unusual and so I asked him the usual three questions:
"What are you doing?"
"Why are you doing it?"
"When are you gonna stop?'
Ivan, nearing hysterics, pointed down the hallway and replied "Boss! Look! The male two legger has lost his hairy lip thingy!!"
I looked and discovered, much to my surprise, that Ivan seemed to be right for once. There at the far end of the hall was what appeared to be the male's mustache (sans the male's face). It quickly became apparent that the male had not simply misplaced his mustache, but the mustache had chosen to escape of its own volition, for it was at that very moment moving across the floor, obviously intent upon some sort of mustache pilgrimage.
This was not completely without precedence. For the last several years, I have noticed that the hair on the front of his head has been slowly migrating to the back of his head, but I had never witnessed a total abandonment before. Perhaps mustaches are a bit faster or more mobile.
I decided to investigate it anyway. As I stalked it, I noticed that it was not a mustache after all. Instead, it appeared to be some previously unknown form of life. It was about two paw-lengths long, covered in rusty colored fur and seemed to have neither a head nor a tail. It moved along the floor by virtue of about a gajillion tiny legs. Now my curiosity was truly piqued. So I did what any scientifically curious person who encountered something completely unknown in the natural world would do........
I ate it.
Needless to say, it tasted like chicken.
Well, it tasted like chicken that had been left out of the fridge thingy for a week, stored in a dirty sneaker and liberally basted in toilet water. Don't ask me how I know what that tastes like, it's a long story and I'll save it for another post. Suffice it to say that I know the taste.
Having consumed the interloper, only leaving a couple of hundred tiny feet in the litter box as evidence, I put it from my mind and returned to my normal nocturnal activities.
The following morning I discovered to my dismay that several more of the fuzzy worms (furms) had entered my house. Ivan was busily chewing a few and had a couple of more trapped under his paw. As I entered, he turned to me and asked "Mwumppf gwom bofth?"
"Perhaps later" I replied.
It was at this point that I noticed the sound. It was a rumbling coming from both my front and back decks. Running to the bay window, I quickly realized that the rumbling was being caused by millions of tiny feet steadily making their way across the wood in search of entry into my house.
The furms were launching an all out invasion. Not even Ivan could eat them all.
As I lay pondering, trying to decide the best course of action to repel this multi-legged menace, a strange and wonderful thing happened. Suddenly my yard was filled with bird thingies! As though someone had rung an avian dinner bell, bird thingies of all sizes and shapes swooped, hopped and fluttered about in a furm feeding frenzy. In a matter of hours, every single furm was consumed. Scattered about my yard lay dozens of over-stuffed birds too full to fly.
I spent the next hour attempting to figure out a way to get outside and feast upon the bird thingies. I pushed at the window screens, I batted at the door knobs. I slapped Tiger Lily. Finally, I reached a decision.
There had been enough slaughter.
I shall let the bird thingies live.
