Monsieur le Premier ministre sat trembling in the chair. Everything around him was chaos. His sudden collapse when having tea with the Princess had left him shaken. The pain in his chest had abated somewhat, but it was still there. What have I done to deserve this? He asked himself. While his ability to endure pain was colossal, gigantic, titanic, the attendant worry that came along with this particular pain was difficult to stomach.
“Here, my lord,” said Lady Greenmeadow, “Drink this.” She held a goblet of wine to his lips and poured, happy to see a droplet of red liquid run down his chin. He began to sputter.
“My God, woman!” He said angrily. “Are you trying to drown me?”
Monsieur le Premier Ministre sat brooding over the mountain of paperwork that lay before him on his desk. Ever since the old King’s last illness, which had shaken him to the core, he felt little motivation in doing any work. Normally a taciturn man, he found himself looking for any excuse to chatter away at any living soul within spitting distance. As a result, the work just piled up. Nobody was going to do the work for him. That’s for sure. He thought to himself.
With a stealthy flick of the wrist, he peered at a document in the middle of the pile. It was another dispute over property lines sent to him by a judge from one of the lower courts of law. When will this tedium ever end? He quickly removed his hand and let the pile resume its original shape.
“Excuse me, my lord, you have a visitor,” said one of his secretaries from the doorway. “It’s Monsieur le Comte GarGar.”
Tata Sous-sus arrived at court in the dead of night, so there were only footmen, grooms and valets to greet her. Her maid helped her find a bed in an out-of-the-way corner of the palace and she threw herself into it without even disrobing. The maid found a comfortable divan and placed it at the foot of the bed where she too collapsed without taking off her riding cloak. Tata Sous-sus, a distant cousin of the old king, was not a beautiful woman. Rather she could be described as handsome. As tall as the average man with regular features, her face would have been charming were it not for her predilection always to frown, giving her a stern countenance that did not invite smiles, much less kisses. Because of her near-sightedness, she squinted and this gave her a look of grim concentration.
Probably the least favorite of His Majesty’s few surviving relatives, as a young girl, she’d married beneath her station and thus lost all claims to titles, lands and fortune. After less than a year, when her husband abandoned her, she was left to shift for herself, becoming a fixture at whatever little castle that would grant her entry. With all the circumspection of a shark, over the years, she gained a reputation for, shall we say “sticky fingers,” causing more than one host to count the silver whenever she departed. But what was she doing at court? Who had invited her? To what purpose?
A quick Google search provided the following data. “At least 571 species are lost since 1750 but likely many more. The main cause of the extinctions is the destruction of natural habitats by human activities, such as cutting down forests and converting land into fields for farming.” Of course this answer was found on the font of all wisdom that is Wikipedia. Each geological era is ushered in by a wave of mass extinction. Scientists have gotten into the habit of calling the current era Anthropocene because of all the species that have been wiped out as a direct result of human activity. Now that we’ve dealt with the depressing stuff, let’s look at a couple of cat photos!
I thought this blue orchid was particularly stunning. I’m proud to submit it to Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge. Is it okay Cee that I’m shrinking down the FOTD banner to 350 x 233? If you prefer that I post it in its original dimensions, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’m so glad that Digi is on the mend! I had a fur baby named Jaydee. He was a black and white tuxedo kitty, just like Maxwell, GarGar and Pirouette. Nigel is the odd man out as he is solid black, even down to his whiskers and claws!
Mad with rage, Nigel’s face turned puce. He’d been standing in line for over an hour, waiting to board his plane when a disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker and announced that his flight had been cancelled. All of this travel is going to kill me, he thought to himself. I need to find a new job.
The instant Maxwell and Nigel lay eyes on one another, they both hissed. Adversaries from days gone by, it should have been no surprise to either of them that they were again facing off yet again. All the same, it was a shock. To them both.
“What are you doing here!” Exclaimed Maxwell, always the first to speak.
“Same reason as you, Max. Well, for the opposite reason, to be exact.” Responded Nigel drily.
“Well, well, well…” Said Maxwell who could feel the blood rushing to his face. Thank you, Dark One for this fur! He thought. Nobody can see me blush under all this hair. “I know you think you’re quite the brammerwith your svelte black coat, but the last time I saw you, all your fur had burnt off.”