RE: The ramblings of Luna, self-appointed Martyr-in-Chief
Dearest peasants, subjects, and that one sock that keeps moving on its own,
It has come to my regal attention that our Chief Operations Officer—Luna the Overdramatic—has submitted a log detailing what she calls the “Virginia Betrayal.” I, Charlotte of the Arctic Circle, First of Her Name, Bringer of Side-Eye and Sass and Keeper of Order, am compelled to respond before my whiskers curl from secondhand indignation.
1. The Candleholder Catastrophe.
Let us address the so-called Swedish Incident. Yes, two candleholders fell. Yes, Tortilla Flat said, “my toe did it.”
But allow me to clarify: I didn’t push them. I merely tested their architectural stability. I whispered “I hate warm neutrals” for science.
You want a scapegoat? Ask the toe goblin.
2. Fraulein Zoomie von Fernslayer.
The emotional support hyena allegedly suffered a “spooked toe.” A toe. Singular. I have 18 toes, and I don’t go knocking down furniture and yowling like a demon possessed every time one of them twitches. But nooo, Chimpi gets a pass because she’s a “baby.” Baby, my tail. She’s a tornado wrapped in fur and lies.
3. Luna’s Resignation Threat.
Let the record state that Luna has threatened to resign 74 times since January. Last time it was because the water bowl was too reflective. Before that, someone chewed her favorite shoelace (it was HER).
If IKEA takes her, I say: May Odin grant them strength.
4. The Real Victims
Let us not forget:
I have endured Tortilla Flat’s interpretive dance on my face and her constant singing in my ears.
Ziggy ate my treat and she shows zero remorse. She says “what treat?”, to what I say “I got your number, hussie.”
Lilith tried to teach the Roomba witchcraft. Naturally. The Roomba is now possessed, only cleans under full moons, and hisses when it sees vacuum bags. Lilith says it’s “almost ready for the coven.” Idiot.
And the humans returned smelling of strange cats and even stranger things.
Have I filed complaints?
Yes. In triplicate. To HR (Hissing Relations). And I am calling Jesse the Pawyer.
5. On Sansibar
Yes, I muttered “Sansibar.” Not because I’m sending Chimpi to a bar. Because it sounds exotic and distant enough to exile her there for a few months. Or a few centuries.
Conclusion
While Luna clutches pearls and composes rune-poetry, some of us maintain order. Some of us patrol the halls at night, regally, ensuring no toe goes unmonitored. Some of us are the backbone of this house.
You’re welcome.
Now stop leaving your shoes out—I’ve claimed the left one as my throne.
“I have a headache, I have a difficult job at the tuna factory and I am changing the internet password. I live in a soap opera” – The Karen
Charlotte
Duchess of the Arctic Circle
High Executioner of Candleholders
Swatter of Nonsense
