🐾LUNA’S OFFICIAL COO LOG, STARDATE: MENINGEYMA CRISIS

Password protected. No humans. No Charlotte. Definitely not the miniature LuPone. No spellcheck.

09:06 AM — Alarm triggered.
Iaia went to da vet for humans (called new-row-loggy or somesuch) and came back with scary papers. Something about a mini-goomba. Or was it a meninja? No wait—Meninguini. Whatever it is, it’s living rent-free in her head and it does not contribute to cuddle duties. Shame.

09:07 AM — Charlotte having existential breakdown.
She has locked herself in the bathroom, whispering “this changes everything” and accusing Tartiflette of “inviting it in with her chaos.” She’s pacing like a noir detective. I offered her a calming tail-nuzzle. She slapped me. That’s the calico for you.

09:09 AM — Attempted intervention with Tartiflette.
She asked, “IS IT A COOKIE?!”. She tried to lick the head MRI scan results. She knocked them off the table. She’s now calling it “the brain raisin” and wants to befriend it. I fear she may build it a shrine.

09:13 AM — Ziggy Stardust wandered in, stared blankly at the scan, and wandered out.
I think she understands quantum neurology but refuses to explain. Classic Ziggy.

09:16 AM — Emergency staff meeting called.
Lilith demanded answers and started drawing occult symbols on the fridge in almond butter and trying to get Charlotte’s pickles for some ritual or another.
Charlotte is drafting a very nasty open letter to The Brain Raisin.
Tartiflette is in the pantry claiming she “feels it in her toes calling her.” We need boots for this rascal sooner than later.
Ziggy is napping on the printer.
I am surrounded by idiots.

09:24 AM — Charlotte tried to put on Iaia’s glasses and declare herself “Chief of Medicine.”
She diagnosed the MRI as:
 • One (1) Evil Spot
 • Three (3) Ghosts of Smells Past. Iaia cannot smell much anymore.
 • Five (5) Broken Chocolates. Iaia cannot eat chocolate anymore.
She’s also banned coffee in protest because it smells bad to iaia now. I am hiding the beans, Collateral Damage is going to need them.

09:31 AM — Tartiflette now says the Meningeenee is her brain twin.
She wants to name it Nugget and she says Nugget tells her secrets. Sansi Bar it is. I am officially requesting hazard pay.

10:00 AM — Final report for now:
 • The Karen is fine. A little tired, a little overwhelmed, with memory holes, she cannot smell, she cannot taste what she cooks, but she is still the Queen of Snacks and Ruler of the Cuddle Realm.
 • We will monitor the meninjini or whatever it’s called. If it gets uppity, we sit on it.
 • Charlotte is brooding. I think she’s writing poetry. Or trying to send the mini-goomba to Sansi Bar with Tarti. I need to make sure The Karen wears nose plugs when she sleeps. I fear she is not safe right now.
 • Tartiflette has made a tiny bed for Nugget in a shoebox. I just can’t with her.
 • I, Luna the COO, am maintaining order through sheer willpower and kibble-based diplomacy. And a clipboard that I don’t have. Gotta go, Tiny LuPone just stole the hearing aids of Collateral Damage. This is going to be fun. Not.

End Log.
If you see a grey-striped kitten whispering to a raisin-sized ghost, don’t ask questions. Just… walk away slowly. And hug Iaia extra hard.

Filed under: Category 7 Catastrophic Medical Drama
Subcategory: “NOT A COOKIE, TARTI!!!!!!!.”