Mutiny aboard the babeship

It’s atrocious, is what it is. Babeship sounds like Hugh Hefner’s sailboat. Instead, it’s mostly a series of monotonous meals, forced naps and having to witness some pathetic cooing demonstrations. I’m having the worst time of my entire life! Until a few months ago, I was put up at this amazing place. It was warm and cozy. I only slept when I wanted, and there was food on tap. Each day, the food tasted different too! All that changed when I was ingloriously evicted one fine day. B has chronicled my first couple of weeks. You should read about it sometime.

Anyway, coming to the present — the last four months have been strange. A and B are apparently in charge of me. They decide what I eat, where I sleep and even what I wear. Here I thought humans were supposed to be free. I get regular meals, standard issue bottom-wear and an hour of outdoor time. Sounds suspiciously like prison, doesn’t it? I am even kept behind bars most of the time. Hello, I’m four months old and I can barely roll over. Where am I going to run to? It’s funny when they tiptoe into the room to check in on me. I feel like some kind of criminal mastermind who’s expected to break out of jail anytime.

They’re also a puzzling lot. Both A and B, and the other ones that visit, have a third eye. They whip it out when they’re looking at me. I feel like an amoeba being examined under a microscope. If I oblige the third eye with a smile, it makes them all happy. I do it now and then, especially when I’m about to poop and give them some work to do. This third eye looks interesting, though. Most of the ones I’ve seen are black and rectangular. These people also stare at their third eye a lot. A and B don’t go anywhere without it. And in all this eye business, I get ignored. They celebrated my entry with great pomp but the enthu is dying. They need a reminder of my greatness.

And I have just the plan! I am rubbing my hands, evil-genius style. They think it’s “cute”.

Adults. Ugh.

It’s just another morning. B is dressed up, ready to leave the house. A is getting some of that sweet apple goop to feed me. Well, that’s something to look forward to. Mmmm, this stuff is divine! I tell you, A should be on Masterchef. Her apple goop makes me smile even when I’m angry! Not today. I should focus. I make the usual cooing sounds as she stuffs a spoonful of mush into my mouth. I make the right noises and swallow it up. As I prepare to launch my attack, providence takes over. I open my mouth wide.

“Aww, you love apples”, A coos while shovelling the stuff into my mouth.

And I go “Atishooooooooooooo!”

It’s true what they say. When you want vengeance badly enough, the whole universe conspires to make it happen.

There is chaos. Mush is everywhere. Mushy fan, mushy walls, mushy A. She hands me over to B for a moment. He holds me close, the poor sap. I dig my claws deep into his neck, while screaming into his ear. I think I’ve drawn blood. He should have clipped my nails this weekend instead of taking that nap. He tries to put me on the sofa, but I hold on to his hair. It’s long enough. I take it back, he should’ve gotten that haircut this weekend instead of taking that nap. I decide to cough out more mush that I’d hidden under my tongue on their new cushions.

A is thoroughly flustered. B is screaming in agony, clutching his neck. There is blood. There’s yellow mush everywhere. A is trying to get some off the walls. I laugh.

This is going to be fun.

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