convos with rilly, mumfy, & fogg

(My afternoon.  Real life, yo. If they spoke English).

3:30 pm
Rilly: Mama, I needs the foods. You had the foods.
Me: Mama has to work, Rilly.
<Rilly whines pathetically. Fogg yawns and licks her paw–then my arm–till it’s raw.>
Me: Do you want the chickens?
<Rilly jumps up in lap. Gobbles chicken treat.>
Rilly: More chickens!
Me: Okay, fine.
Mumfy: I can haz the chickens, Mama?
Me: Here.
Mumfy: Oh, I just lick it. Rilly can haz.
Me: Mama gonna call nice man now. Be quiet please.

<During call…>
Mumfy: MAOOO. MAOO-OOOOO.
Fogg: Ah-choo.  Mama–I need the pets.  I’m sick.  Can I have maple stuff?
<I grab the lysine and let her lick it from the tube.>

5:30 pm
Rilly: Mama! I want the food. I’m dying.  It hurts.  My belly!  The foods.  PLEASE!
Me: Mama has to heat up her food. She’ll make the foods soon.
Rilly: But! But! Hungry! I hit the brother.
Mumfy: Oww. He hit the brother. I’m gonna hit him now.
Fogg: Yawn. You guys are stupid.  I wait and watch.
Rilly: What’d I do?
Mumfy: Heh. I hit you. Boing.
Me: Stop hitting your brother…

<Puts food in microwave. Turns around.>

Me: Who barfed on the mat and the bowls?
Rilly: A ghost. Or Mumfy.
Mumfy: He’s a liar! MAO OOOOOO.
Fogg: It was him.  I saw him.

Me: Aww, man. It’s dried on.  When did you do this?

<Scrapes cat bowls and mat for an hour.  No, really.>

Rilly: Hungry, hungry, hungry.
Fogg: I gonna run with my mousey toy.  Oh my god. It’s so fun!
Rilly: Stop running.  I’m getting dizzy.  Ooh, okay–I run.
Mumfy: MAOOO OOOOO.
Me: Good God.  I’m working as fast as I can.

<Finally done cleaning.>

Rilly: I’m gonna sulk.  You’re never feeding me.  I’m gonna die.
Fogg: I love the mousey toy.  It’s my friend.  I call him Felix.  I eat him and rub my butt.
Mumfy: I’m so happy.  I love you, Foggy.  Oh, hi, Mama.  MAAOOOO.

<Opens can. Rilly stampedes.>

Rilly: THE FOODS!

<Jumps up on counter.  Runs down the hallway and back to the counter.>

Me: Good God.  I’m working as fast as I can.
Mumfy: Oh, there’s food.
Fogg: Oh, that smells good.  Can I haz some?

<I grab all the bowls and balance them like a pro diner waitress as Rilly jumps on my legs.>

Me: Here’s the mat. Keep it clean.  And yum yums.

<Rilly eats from each bowl.>

Fogg: You pig.  I want some.
Mumfy: Can I haz some?  Mama, help me?
Me: Rilly, move.  Foggy–come here.  Mumfy–come on.  Come on.
<Sighs>
Yay, yum yums.

<Grabs food–now cold–from microwave.>

Me: This tastes like cat food.  Ugh.
Fogg: I DONE!  Let me rub your face with my face.  It tastes like TUNA.  YAY!
Me: Eww.  Fogg.  GOD!

20 minutes later.

Rilly: Mama!  The foods! The foods!  I’m gonna die.
Me: What the Hell, Rilly?!  You just ate.
Rilly: I’m starving!
Me: No more yum-yums. We’re out.

<walks to sink…almost steps in lake o’puke.>

Me: My God. Did you even chew?
Rilly: I ate mine and Foo Foo’s, but then it went splat.
Mumfy: He’s bulimic.
Me: Gross.

<cleans it up>

Me: You’re going on a diet tomorrow.

(Happy New Year from me and the three little silly kitties).

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