Moster Tails: Mostly Packed

Roanoke Island

I am so tired of hearing Kitten On The Keys. Somehow Stinky and his
buddies transported his piano over to the mouser and set it up in the
galley, which is also used as a living space when we're not eating.
Since that time, every kit and cat has been entertaining themselves and
others by playing music. Some are actually not bad, but I'm not going
to tell them that and encourage them to keep up that noise.

Most of the stores are on board and set in place. The hoomins got their
personal stores in earlier this week, and are settled into their cabins.
My new Drinkwell fountain is in place and working. Replacement
hammocks are in place and being claimed by their new owners. Only one
or two fights over position have broken out. Smokey, Jessie, and Sgt
Huey have been very good at keeping them in line. I've been pleased
with the way the crew is shaking down.

I'm promised new fishing equipment by tomorrow. Last year's gear kept
getting tangled up. I'm pretty sure I know how, but I couldn't catch
the kittens in action. I'm assured by the company that this year's
equipment will be harder to tangle. We'll see. I'm also expecting the
makings for Friday's bon voyage party tomorrow. The fat wench says that
she will not make mouse flavored pizza, so we're stuck with pepperoni,
sausage, ham and cheese pizzas. The hoomins tease Gem and threaten to
have mushrooms put on them, as mushrooms make him turn red and puffy. I
think he knows that they're teasing, but he acts like they want to kill
him off.

The rumors of treasure persist, even though the cats and kits have been
assured by no less a personage as Frank, one of the owners of the
island, that the rumors aren't true. There are also mutterings about
the rigging, sea monsters, and becoming shark bait. This year's voyage
should be an interesting one. And I thought that the worst thing I'd
have to contend with someone tipping over the bait buckets again.

Cap'n Pine Cone esq.
http://mousertails.blogspot.com/

tanada wrote:

Roanoke Island



ACK!!! That's MOUSER TAILS. What can I say, rented fingers?

Pam S. who had to type this three times to get it right. Guess there
are storms coming in the next few days.

Corporal Sammy was making the rounds of the ship, making sure that all was
well.

She stopped short at the sight of a pair of kits hauling litterboxes out
from the litterbox room and onto the deck, near the stern of the ship.

"CAPTAIN AND STANLEY! What are you doing?"

Two stripey heads turn toward the Corporal. "Why, we're just putting these
where they belong!"

"Where they *belong*?!", exclaimed Sammy. "They BELONG in the litterbox
room, which is below deck. You got the tour of the ship days ago. Why
would you think that THIS is where they belong?"

"But Corporal! Isn't this part of the ship known as the *poop deck*?"

Corporal Sammy stood and looked at the kits for a long moment. Finally,
she emitted a sigh of exas-purr-ation and sternly commanded, "Just put
them all back in the litterbox room. And make it SNAPPY!"

"Aye, aye, Corporal!" And two stripey kits started hauling litterboxes
below deck.