Ziggy Stardust:
Wait… where’s the bag? Wasn’t there a bag? With the… um… jinglies? Receipts? Or snacks?
Wait, what day is it? Who knocked over Monday?? I think that Baby struck again.
Collateral Damage™ bag was annihilated before Iaia even got to her coffee. Her soul left her body.
Tartiflette:
OKAY but like… the bag was sitting there… with its crinkly noises… and its wiggly zippers…
and I just, I HAD TO POUNCE.
Receipts went flyyyyying! Pens danced and went boing boing!!
Little thingies rolled under the couch!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
Mommy screamed something in another language I don’t understand but it felt like love.
Charlotte:
Awful. Awful. Just an awful little thing.
Shrimpyflette is in full scorchiø mode.
It was not love. It was “¡¿PERO QUÉ COJ—?!”
Also, you delayed her from retrieving Willow, who was in the rain.
And I was out there too.
Tartiflette:
She no gonna melt. She’s made of sass and beef.
And you looked like a soggy baked potato!
Willow looked at me like: 😐
but I kissed her nose so it’s FINE.
Also WHEN is EM COMING BACK???
Charlotte:
Excuse me?
While YOU lot were staging interpretive arson indoors, I was OUTSIDE.
I was performing reconnaissance. In the rain. For ALL of us.
I was not soggy Tortilla Flat, I was dewy.
I am a morning dew warrior, not a drowned rat. Learn the difference.
Ziggy Stardust:
It was 6:40 AM. There were receipts in my water bowl.
I stepped on a paperclip.
I’ve seen things.
Lilith:
The bag… contained ancient knowledge. And spare screws.
Capitalist detritus. Receipts from 2019… bolts of mysterious purpose…
Now scattered like cursed runes.
Its toppling has opened a portal.
The chaos was not foretold, but deeply felt.
The baby shattered it like a prophecy unraveling.
She has no idea what she’s unleashed.
Luna:
I felt the tremor in my whiskers before the crash.
I told the shadows, “It begins again.”
The scent of ink and stale gum wrappers lingers in the air…
Tartipocalypse has summoned another Monday demon.
I sensed it coming.
The air went still. The dust motes danced. And then: CRASH.
Mama began the ritual of picking up ancient human relics with dead eyes.
Tartiflette:
OH OH OH! Then I went to the window!
There was a plant!
It was tall and wiggly and full of leaves
So I smacked it!!!
It said “OW!” (In plant language.)
Willow (ghostwriting via Luna):
I am a dignified elder.
My hindquarters deserve dry grass.
Not puddles. Not panic. Not paw towels.
Lilith:
A storm of receipts, a toppling of green life, and a disgraced guardian stuck in the drizzle…
The omens are clear. But I won’t tell.
Ziggy Stardust:
…is the plant okay?
Was the plant the bag?
Who’s Em again?
Charlotte:
EM.
You mean The Esteemed Snuggleton, Tuna Regent of the Weekend Realm?
They of the Endless Cuddles?
they are a saint.
Tartiflette:
THEY SAID “WHO’S A TINY NIGHTMARE??” AND I SAID “IT ME!!”
They whispered “you are chaos incarnate and I adore you.”
Then I bit their toe and they kissed my forehead.
I love them. I miss them.
Luna:
They whispered “who’s a haunted little beauty” to me
and let me nap on their lap while they watched cat documentaries.
I astral projected from joy.
Lilith:
They lit a candle while brushing my fur
and said I reminded him of a haunted painting in Prague.
I may bond with them via soul thread.
THEY left out sardine snacks shaped like moons.
They are the only human worthy of our coven.
Ziggy Stardust:
They fed me FOUR TIMES in one hour because
they “weren’t sure if anyone else had already fed me.”
I didn’t correct them.
They told me I was “a queen disguised as a chonk.”
I was deeply moved.
Also… are they my person now?
Charlotte:
Em greeted me with reverence. As is proper.
They addressed me as “Lady Charlotte”.
Gave me a throne made of pillows.
Captured my dewy magnificence in twenty-six portraits.
Then showed them to me like I wasn’t already aware.
Tartiflette:
When is Em coming back?
Charlotte:
Iaia is back.
Mama is ours.
That’s the law.
We can keep them on retainer.
[
El gato helecho, Remedios Varo
Ziggy Stardust:
Can they come today?
I forgot what they smell like
and I think the plant looked at me.
Tartiflette:
I LOVE YOU MOMMY,
even when you make that scream sound and chase me with the broom.
I am your tiny terrorrrrr 💗💗💗💗💗
Luna:
Blessed be the baby gremlin.
Cursed be the ficus.
