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ontologyI was serenaded last night.
Also, finally nicking this from everybody and their English teacher, anyone who comments on this entry gets to request a drabble. (I'm bored with nothing to write except stuff I'm supposed to write, now that I've finished The Wise and the Lovely, other than the bit I need the library for.) Within reason, you know. I do not do slash, and no,lady_moriel, I don't care what you do to me: I am not writing Giant Squid/Basilisk. Fandoms I'm willing to write for include: Tolkien, Harry Potter, Narnia, Firebird, Legends of the Guardian-King, LOST, Inkheart, Emily of New Moon, and Peter Pan. (The other ones, I'm just not prepared for as of now. Even though I would really like to write random fanfiction for Rosemary Sutcliffe's The Eagle of the Ninth, but I'm just batty that way. Also, if anybody but me has read that, and they don't live in Britian, I will fangirl them.) You can leave me a bit of poetry or song and say 'oy, [fandom, characters], this, drabble!', too.
Also, the fifteen character thingummy, because I wrote my list out last night when I couldn't sleep. I have fifteen characters listed (all LotR, Silmarillion, Harry Potter, and mythology, because I'd prefer if the majority of my friends list understood them, especially since I have a lot of weird, obscure fandoms, and while I could wax hysterical about Madeleine Donovan on a blind date with Snape, nobody would get it exceptlady_moriel, who is probably snickering herself into an early grave right now). You give me a base, such as 'Nine and Seven take up polo', or something to that extent. I write a drabble, then find the brain bleach. Got it? Yes. Now comment. Free me of the surly bonds of boredom. Because I am thoroughly incapable of entertaining myself anymore, aren't I? ^-^
I was sitting on the computer much later than I care to admit (but my mind is so clear at night; it's a pity I have to go to sleep and waste the creative energy!), when suddenly, I heard a ghastly noise. (No, it was not a dark and stormy night. Sorry. It was dark, though. Night often is.) The cat was outdoors, and he was making a noise which sounded very much as if he were being mauled, or had just been and was now limping his bloody way home. We do have a fair amount of wildlife in the vicinity of our backyard, and while I can't see one of the deer attacking Roscoe (unless it was a TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA DEER!), a possum might. Or the bear that supposedly putters about in our general area.
So I opened the door, and upon being able to hear more clearly realised: there was more than one feline making that noise. I rushed for a flashlight, afraid Ross might have gotten into a fight (which would be weird, as he is so non-militant that he could probably become a Quaker). Naturally, we had no flashlight in the house. We never do. I did find a little battery-powered desk lamp, so I switched it on and started flashing it around outside.
Sitting on the steps leading up to our back porch was Roscoe, and an unidentified tabby cat.
Singing.
I've always heard that cats have horrible singing voices. Plagues, I've seen it parodied. I just didn't expect it to sound that bad. Even when I knew what was going on, it still sounded as if they were killing each other, or had eaten a really bad mouse. It was amusing to see my kitty with a friend, though: he hasn't had any friends, so far as I know, since we lived in Virginia and the neighbourhood cats used to hang out on our porch like some kind of secret society. This was when Roscoe was still Brave Outdoors Cat and slept on the dumpster, and when Dad used to have to be really careful leaving for work early in the morning, because there was usually a cat napping in the middle of the street. Then we moved to Illinois, which traumatised Roscoe, and he has never been an outdoorsy cat since. (He goes out, and then he comes in again, and five minutes later he wants to go out again. This is always at night. He always raps at my window--yes, raps, with his claws--and it's always at some unethical hour, the bloody Rum-Tum Tugger.)
So I opened the door, and upon being able to hear more clearly realised: there was more than one feline making that noise. I rushed for a flashlight, afraid Ross might have gotten into a fight (which would be weird, as he is so non-militant that he could probably become a Quaker). Naturally, we had no flashlight in the house. We never do. I did find a little battery-powered desk lamp, so I switched it on and started flashing it around outside.
Sitting on the steps leading up to our back porch was Roscoe, and an unidentified tabby cat.
Singing.
I've always heard that cats have horrible singing voices. Plagues, I've seen it parodied. I just didn't expect it to sound that bad. Even when I knew what was going on, it still sounded as if they were killing each other, or had eaten a really bad mouse. It was amusing to see my kitty with a friend, though: he hasn't had any friends, so far as I know, since we lived in Virginia and the neighbourhood cats used to hang out on our porch like some kind of secret society. This was when Roscoe was still Brave Outdoors Cat and slept on the dumpster, and when Dad used to have to be really careful leaving for work early in the morning, because there was usually a cat napping in the middle of the street. Then we moved to Illinois, which traumatised Roscoe, and he has never been an outdoorsy cat since. (He goes out, and then he comes in again, and five minutes later he wants to go out again. This is always at night. He always raps at my window--yes, raps, with his claws--and it's always at some unethical hour, the bloody Rum-Tum Tugger.)
Also, finally nicking this from everybody and their English teacher, anyone who comments on this entry gets to request a drabble. (I'm bored with nothing to write except stuff I'm supposed to write, now that I've finished The Wise and the Lovely, other than the bit I need the library for.) Within reason, you know. I do not do slash, and no,
lady_moriel, I don't care what you do to me: I am not writing Giant Squid/Basilisk. Fandoms I'm willing to write for include: Tolkien, Harry Potter, Narnia, Firebird, Legends of the Guardian-King, LOST, Inkheart, Emily of New Moon, and Peter Pan. (The other ones, I'm just not prepared for as of now. Even though I would really like to write random fanfiction for Rosemary Sutcliffe's The Eagle of the Ninth, but I'm just batty that way. Also, if anybody but me has read that, and they don't live in Britian, I will fangirl them.) You can leave me a bit of poetry or song and say 'oy, [fandom, characters], this, drabble!', too. Also, the fifteen character thingummy, because I wrote my list out last night when I couldn't sleep. I have fifteen characters listed (all LotR, Silmarillion, Harry Potter, and mythology, because I'd prefer if the majority of my friends list understood them, especially since I have a lot of weird, obscure fandoms, and while I could wax hysterical about Madeleine Donovan on a blind date with Snape, nobody would get it except
lady_moriel, who is probably snickering herself into an early grave right now). You give me a base, such as 'Nine and Seven take up polo', or something to that extent. I write a drabble, then find the brain bleach. Got it? Yes. Now comment. Free me of the surly bonds of boredom. Because I am thoroughly incapable of entertaining myself anymore, aren't I? ^-^
