Thursday, March 19, 2015

The Spruney Plangoe

    Sad to say, but in my spontaneously off-the-cuff way, most of my blog posts are pre-prepared these days, much like the freeze-dried bat wings in any self-respecting vampire’s refrigerator.

    But this morning, I write on the hoof.

    Truly I am a centaur amongst metaphorically vampire-themed control freaks made clown fodder.

    Something of a fever has paralysed the typically hare-resplendent boinginess of March.

    Subtle things, little things — like having a tooth pulled by a kick ass Vietnamese lady dentist, experienceing total nasal surrender in the face of The Vile Mucus, suffering the worst excesses of The Disenchanted — and recalling the dullardity-pumped fizzog of StupidHeadTwatFace in the name of regular blogging.

    Which reminds me, if ever one of your teeth is pulled by a kick ass Vietnamese lady dentist, may you not endure kiss of these words against your eardrum scant seconds after a whispered debate about the efficacy of the anaesthetic gripping your jaw like two octopus tentacles hung from a hook:

    “Julie (that’s the name of the assistant, infodump buffs) — come and hold his head.”

    I suppose I should count myself fortunate that Whirl Towers now boasts a new cat.

    Not properly, not for real — in the wake of Geoff’s demise, I’ve inherited a leather sofa, which kind of precludes any claw-bearing pet owning opportunities this side of a clipped iguana.

    Our new cat is a guest cat, shunned as a prowling feline mongrel by Girly of Whirly’s sofa-protecting sensibilities, but loved by Son of Whirl and me thanks to its smoothy purrish gingery-whiteness, ability to roll around upside down on any surface — and love of golf balls.

    My house has been transformed into a zoo-cum-cattery-cum-meaow theme park.

    Which is why I woke up this morning to find no pre-prepared blog post hunkering down in the Regular Whirlitude silo.

    Also: why you ended up with this offering (and maybe ran a milo)...


fairyhedgehog said...

We have two leather settees and two cats.

I won't say that the sofas don't show evidence of cat ownership... just that the two are not necessarily incompatible.

I'm glad you've got feline company again. Geoff was very special and wonderful (and Rufus still misses her) but even a guest cat is better than no cat.

A picture would be nice.

Whirlochre said...

The sofa or the cat?

fairyhedgehog said...

The cat.

Or the cat on the sofa to freak out Girly of Whirly.

Nah, that's cruel. Don't do that one!

Whirlochre said...

Cat on sofa it is.