Friday Night Lament: Fuzzball held hostage 2 by Fuzzball I couldn't write any more last time, kits and kittens. My emotions are raw. Since mom discovered Changeling Press, my life has become vastly different. And that's not a good thing. She downloaded her first book on that fateful night, then fixed an iced soda and grabbed some popcorn. I have always enjoyed popcorn. She would search the entire bowl carefully, find the perfect piece, then flick it in my direction. If I was pleased by her offering, I'd carefully bat it with one paw (usually my left so she wouldn't think I was excited or anything) and look up for another kernel to toy with.

But on this night, Fuzzball didn't get any popcorn. Or catnip. Or deli chicken. Or a new fishy-toy on a string, or anything. Except ignored. Yes, I said ignored. It rips me apart to confess, but on this night - she began to treat me like (gasp) a cat.

"Get off the keyboard." "I can't see through you." "Get your tail out of my popcorn." "Don't fish for ice cubes in my soda." "Go take a nap or something, Fuzzball! Can't you see I'm trying to read?"

Oh, the pain, the pain.

Still, I'm clever. And stealthy. After all I am a member of the superior species. So I bided my time and waited until she was engrossed with the words on the computer screen.

I went under the footstool, over the magazine basket, between the CD towers, and leaped onto the file cabinet behind her chair. Carefully I peered over her shoulder. What could have changed her so much? What is responsible for upsetting my perfect life? What is she reading?

Oh, there's a word I've seen before! Let's see…. P….U….S….S….Y…. Pussy! Pussy! It's a story about ME!