...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Armoire of Despair

This morning I was investigating the bottom drawer of Dad’s armoire, which he kindly left open for me.  Okay, he went into another room for a minute…. Anyways, this armoire is one of those beefy jobs, built for real storage capacity which translates into room enough for a big guy like me, even when it is stuffed with clothes. And who can resist those neat stacks of polos and cozy-looking white t-shirts that Mummy works so hard to create? Not me! I jumped in straight away and began rummaging around, not sure what I might find but diligent none-the-less. After upsetting a couple of stacks and finding nothing of real interest, I decided I would crawl further back to see what else I might be missing – I’m thinking maybe Dad has a couple of muffins hidden in here or something. 
Well, I did not find the muffins so decided it might be a good time to settle down for a rest – digging in clothes is hard work! I can really appreciate Mummy’s laundry efforts now. Speaking of Mummy, she suddenly loomed into view above the pile of cotton wreckage I had created and instantly demanded who had done this. I felt it not the best moment to speak up (‘cause, er, I’m not exactly supposed to be in there…). I wanted to gather my thoughts first (such as they are), so I held reeeeally still and said nothing while she hurriedly flipped and folded, fluffed and re-stacked, all on top of me. The stacks grew higher, and the lights went out. Mummy had shut the drawer. She didn’t even have the common decency to make sure no one was in there first! But I couldn’t exactly say anything or I would have been caught for drawer-breaking so I was stuck.  I did the only logical thing: I fell asleep. I woke up in a fog, hearing my name being called, first loud then receding.  I figured out that Mummy was looking for me – it had to be lunch time so I must have slept in there for hours…I was starved but I would be in such trouble if I let her know where I was…But it was terribly dark and stuffy in the drawer…aagh - a guy can only stand so much! I began crying, softly at first – just to test the waters - then I really belted it out.
I heard footsteps, my name, then the drawer began sliding forward, sunlight flooded in as my head popped out, and I looked up pathetically at Mummy. Expecting to be yelled at, I was pleasantly surprised instead to find her cooing and fretting over my “ordeal”. This was more like it! She obviously felt so bad about me being in the drawer all this time that she forgot to be mad about the shirts. Bad as the circumstance was, I guess you could say it all worked in my favor. Still, I’m none too pleased with her negligence and feel it should be addressed, though perhaps another time. For now, I am going to revel in the extra attention I am getting, remembering to look really sad every now and then to keep this good thing going a bit longer, heh, heh...~

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