13 April 2014
735
R. Linda:
Weasil rang to let me know he be back in Steamboat Springs, Colorado and "trying to" enjoy the new weed law. Yes, indeed. The young whippersnapper takes a toke every so often now that it's "legal." Personally, I am not about any of that because I was brought up on Irish whiskey and that's an Irishman's way of dulling the senses, therefore, I know very little about the stuff as does Weasil's Scottish governess.
He hired this person years ago and told me she was an older woman from Peebles, Scotland, very prim and proper just what he thought his two kiddos needed. Since then, I have met Ms. Macmillan and she did not come off as Mary Poppins or Super Nanny but the old fashioned staid and 'tradition at all costs' kind of governess. I thought she was exactly what the Weasil brood needed because her stern exterior shouted no nonsense.
I know what you're thinking -- a governess? Really? In this day and age. But we are talking Weasil who be all about good form if it applies to anyone else but him.
Well, try as the governess might the two "children" are anything but well-mannered delights. But when in her presence you could not ask for two more well-behaved children, but away from her guiding presence . . . nah, everything falls apart. She seems the strict disciplinarian and keeps those two youngins' on their educational toes she does. I am not sure why she's still employed, as both children go to fine schools, but as with most things and people, I can only suppose she's become a fixture of the Weasil household.
Recently, with the new weed law in place, Weasil decided to go out and buy some. When I heard this I thought it might explain the killing off of Weasil brain cells and was not a bit surprised he'd be out to purchase a bag of the stuff. And being Weasil it wasn't a little bag it was a big bag, or so he said. I thought you could only buy a little but well, we are talking the Weasil who could charm the pants off of a snake if he had to.
He comes home with the baggie and he hides it in a guest room the family doesn't use, because we know Max the eldest would be right there trying the stuff out and the daughter, Miss Scientific Experimenter Extraordinaire, well we KNOW she'd be trying it.
So, the other day Ms. Macmillan had nothing much to do as the kiddos were in school and the Weasils were out shopping in Aspen. She decided to "tidy up a wee bit," and that included the guest room. She opened a nightstand drawer and finds this bag of brownish-green vegetation.
"Oh my," she mutters to herself, "this must be Fluffy's "new stash" as Mr. Weasil calls it." And with a sigh she takes the baggie from the drawer and goes into the great room where the Weasil family cat is perched on the back of a couch, looking out the window at the wooded hillside probably dreaming of catching and torturing (before biting the head off) a chipmunk or other outdoor rodent.
"Here kitty, kitty, look what Mildred has for you!" Says Macmillan shaking the baggie.
And of course, kitty hears the sound of that and it looks very much like her usual catnip and off she jumps meowing at Macmillan to get some of that catnip gold out so she can roll her fluffy self in it for the joy of wallowing the day around in a catnip high.
This our governess does and the smell was so pungent to that cat it plunged into the bit on the floor and rolled around and meowed like this was the greatest catnip ever! The cat was so animated and "cute" that Macmillan gave her some more, enough that cat was walking on air, or more accurately tripping out.
As the week passed anytime Macmillan (who loves cats) was in that room, she'd go to the high chest where she placed the bag of 'catnip' and if the cat was in the room (and you know it was) she'd toss out some of the stuff and the cat would have a high old time quite literally. Macmillan noticed the cat was fast becoming "her" cat because when it saw her it knew it would get this new and improved catnip and this woman was her favourite person in the whole house now. Something Macmillan, lover of cats, did not mind at all.
About two nights ago, Weasil decided it was time to smoke a bowl of the weed he bought. The kiddos were in bed and the household settled for the night. He went into the guest room and as you know the baggie was not there. He stood there wondering if he put the stuff someplace else, but no, he distinctly remembered putting it in the guest room. He hunted around and could not find it anywhere. He went to his wife Amanda and the two of them scoured the house but no bag of weed did they find.
Perplexed, Weasil went into the great room where he noticed the cat, who, for the past few days was very vocal and would walk over to the big chest and meow like it wanted something from there. He had opened some of the drawers and found nothing, thinking maybe a mouse was in the chest somewhere. Well, this time the cat was demanding about that chest. But nothing could Weasil see and he was too lazy to open all the drawers.
A few minutes later, in comes Macmillan to say goodnight, and she sees the cat begging at the chest. She goes in and slides open a drawer as Weasil is sitting there racking his brains about where he misplaced the bag, and what does he see, yup you guessed it, she removes THE baggie from the chest and croons to kitty she has kitty's catnip. He watches in shocked astonishment as she takes the little that is left and spreads it on the floor and Fluffy goes ape shite rolling around and meowing its delight in getting the 'good stuff' before bed.
Too overcome for words, Weasil says nothing but sits there watching the cat enjoy its furry self in his expensive purchase. He gets up and goes to the drawer where he saw Macmillan re-stash the stash in the hopes there is some left and what he found was he's got very little left of his expensive weed, a pinch no less, not even! He hits his forehead with his hand and looks down at the fluff ball wearing his prized Mary Jane and feels faint. Somehow he got the with all to pick up the cat as carefully as he could and over to the glass-top coffee table by the scruff of the neck he takes it. Gingerly he brushes the stuff on the table, debriding cat of weed. He had 1/4 teaspoon! Poor Weasil, poor man, poor cat!
The cat was deposited on the floor and it sat looking at the Weasil like he had one hell of a nerve. Yes, it did!
Macmillan unwittingly made a junkie out of the cat. Weasil was telling me that every time he goes near that chest or even ventures into the great room the cat comes out of nowhere and cuffs his ankles but good. He said his ankles are cut up from scratches so bad he can't wear socks or bleeding "profusely" begins.
I asked him what he was going to do. He told me he had no choice but to buy two baggies of weed next time, his and the cat's.
Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Weasil rang to let me know he be back in Steamboat Springs, Colorado and "trying to" enjoy the new weed law. Yes, indeed. The young whippersnapper takes a toke every so often now that it's "legal." Personally, I am not about any of that because I was brought up on Irish whiskey and that's an Irishman's way of dulling the senses, therefore, I know very little about the stuff as does Weasil's Scottish governess.
He hired this person years ago and told me she was an older woman from Peebles, Scotland, very prim and proper just what he thought his two kiddos needed. Since then, I have met Ms. Macmillan and she did not come off as Mary Poppins or Super Nanny but the old fashioned staid and 'tradition at all costs' kind of governess. I thought she was exactly what the Weasil brood needed because her stern exterior shouted no nonsense.
I know what you're thinking -- a governess? Really? In this day and age. But we are talking Weasil who be all about good form if it applies to anyone else but him.
Well, try as the governess might the two "children" are anything but well-mannered delights. But when in her presence you could not ask for two more well-behaved children, but away from her guiding presence . . . nah, everything falls apart. She seems the strict disciplinarian and keeps those two youngins' on their educational toes she does. I am not sure why she's still employed, as both children go to fine schools, but as with most things and people, I can only suppose she's become a fixture of the Weasil household.
Recently, with the new weed law in place, Weasil decided to go out and buy some. When I heard this I thought it might explain the killing off of Weasil brain cells and was not a bit surprised he'd be out to purchase a bag of the stuff. And being Weasil it wasn't a little bag it was a big bag, or so he said. I thought you could only buy a little but well, we are talking the Weasil who could charm the pants off of a snake if he had to.
He comes home with the baggie and he hides it in a guest room the family doesn't use, because we know Max the eldest would be right there trying the stuff out and the daughter, Miss Scientific Experimenter Extraordinaire, well we KNOW she'd be trying it.
So, the other day Ms. Macmillan had nothing much to do as the kiddos were in school and the Weasils were out shopping in Aspen. She decided to "tidy up a wee bit," and that included the guest room. She opened a nightstand drawer and finds this bag of brownish-green vegetation.
"Oh my," she mutters to herself, "this must be Fluffy's "new stash" as Mr. Weasil calls it." And with a sigh she takes the baggie from the drawer and goes into the great room where the Weasil family cat is perched on the back of a couch, looking out the window at the wooded hillside probably dreaming of catching and torturing (before biting the head off) a chipmunk or other outdoor rodent.
"Here kitty, kitty, look what Mildred has for you!" Says Macmillan shaking the baggie.
And of course, kitty hears the sound of that and it looks very much like her usual catnip and off she jumps meowing at Macmillan to get some of that catnip gold out so she can roll her fluffy self in it for the joy of wallowing the day around in a catnip high.
This our governess does and the smell was so pungent to that cat it plunged into the bit on the floor and rolled around and meowed like this was the greatest catnip ever! The cat was so animated and "cute" that Macmillan gave her some more, enough that cat was walking on air, or more accurately tripping out.
As the week passed anytime Macmillan (who loves cats) was in that room, she'd go to the high chest where she placed the bag of 'catnip' and if the cat was in the room (and you know it was) she'd toss out some of the stuff and the cat would have a high old time quite literally. Macmillan noticed the cat was fast becoming "her" cat because when it saw her it knew it would get this new and improved catnip and this woman was her favourite person in the whole house now. Something Macmillan, lover of cats, did not mind at all.
About two nights ago, Weasil decided it was time to smoke a bowl of the weed he bought. The kiddos were in bed and the household settled for the night. He went into the guest room and as you know the baggie was not there. He stood there wondering if he put the stuff someplace else, but no, he distinctly remembered putting it in the guest room. He hunted around and could not find it anywhere. He went to his wife Amanda and the two of them scoured the house but no bag of weed did they find.
Perplexed, Weasil went into the great room where he noticed the cat, who, for the past few days was very vocal and would walk over to the big chest and meow like it wanted something from there. He had opened some of the drawers and found nothing, thinking maybe a mouse was in the chest somewhere. Well, this time the cat was demanding about that chest. But nothing could Weasil see and he was too lazy to open all the drawers.
A few minutes later, in comes Macmillan to say goodnight, and she sees the cat begging at the chest. She goes in and slides open a drawer as Weasil is sitting there racking his brains about where he misplaced the bag, and what does he see, yup you guessed it, she removes THE baggie from the chest and croons to kitty she has kitty's catnip. He watches in shocked astonishment as she takes the little that is left and spreads it on the floor and Fluffy goes ape shite rolling around and meowing its delight in getting the 'good stuff' before bed.
Too overcome for words, Weasil says nothing but sits there watching the cat enjoy its furry self in his expensive purchase. He gets up and goes to the drawer where he saw Macmillan re-stash the stash in the hopes there is some left and what he found was he's got very little left of his expensive weed, a pinch no less, not even! He hits his forehead with his hand and looks down at the fluff ball wearing his prized Mary Jane and feels faint. Somehow he got the with all to pick up the cat as carefully as he could and over to the glass-top coffee table by the scruff of the neck he takes it. Gingerly he brushes the stuff on the table, debriding cat of weed. He had 1/4 teaspoon! Poor Weasil, poor man, poor cat!
The cat was deposited on the floor and it sat looking at the Weasil like he had one hell of a nerve. Yes, it did!
 |
| As you can see - not happy and very pissed off |
Macmillan unwittingly made a junkie out of the cat. Weasil was telling me that every time he goes near that chest or even ventures into the great room the cat comes out of nowhere and cuffs his ankles but good. He said his ankles are cut up from scratches so bad he can't wear socks or bleeding "profusely" begins.
I asked him what he was going to do. He told me he had no choice but to buy two baggies of weed next time, his and the cat's.
Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved
6 comments:
LMAO
well that explains it. no wonder he is the way he is. lol
butt I dint rearrange my face!
Mildred Macmillan? That's her name for real? That's funnier than the name Weasil, but then ...
LMAO
so does kitty crave brownies?LOL
governess my ass! more like keep kiddies out of my hair! keep daddy time to a minimum! more time for the party pot.
If Weasil gets desperate he could try the catnip instead? LOL
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