Here is the link to the baby squirrel: https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2020/11/07/fun-size/
Now GO. Go see the baby squirrel!!!!! NOW.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
Here is the link to the baby squirrel: https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2020/11/07/fun-size/
Now GO. Go see the baby squirrel!!!!! NOW.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
We’re not having a wedding. Yesterday was my anniversary, but no weddings this weekend.
It is Cat-ur-day once again. Today I borrowed a few of my favorite cat images from Boredpanda.com
The sole propose of this post is to make everyone who sees it feel good.
Once again, these images are from one of my FAVORITE web sites: BOREDPANDA.COM
Hope your day is purrrrrrrfect.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
Today is hot. It is one hundred and ten degrees fahrenheit. I am in Hell. Never before now have I been in such heat. I miss my cold castle. Even today I would deal with rats and damp stone walls rather than feeling I am being strapped to a stake and burned to a a pile of ashes with only my blue eyes looking out of my blackened skull in search of my charred heart.
It is still hot.
Tonight my friend Randolpho and I went in search for warm blood and cool dark rooms.
In the middle of the city we walked the streets and went into bars with mists of water spraying down upon pretty young women who sat outside in short skirts as they drank cold drinks and talked among each other.
Inside these places it was cold and filled with loud music. People sat and talked. Nobody was dancing. It was too hot.
As Randolpho and I walked among the mortals I could see their eyes upon us. I could hear the women whisper to each other as I walked by he is so cute, he is gorgeous, I would take him home.
I would glance their way and smile. Maybe I would fulfill their desires and go home with them. I could taste their blood in my mouth already. I could feel their warm skin on my cool Vampire body. I started to turn their way.
Then Randolpho grabbem my arm and said, “Come this way.”
Down a hot ugly alley between old brick building we walked, then down narrow stairs into a dark doorway.
I could hear men shouting and cheering. Then I saw there was a fight.
Two men kicked and punched each other in a chain link cage. A final kick brought one down in a bloody heap upon the floor. I could smell his blood. My mouth watered.
Then all eyes turned upon Randolpho and I.
“You got a pretty face. It would be too bad to ruin it,” yelled one of the men in my direction. I looked him in the eyes and his face contorted in pain at my will.
Several other men shouted at us using crass childish profanities.
We do not belong here I thought, but it might be fun. Randolpho was thinking the same thing.
Many of these men were large. They were well over six feet tall with shoulders the size of oxen, and muscles like those of Hercules. We are not built like oxen but more like one would imagine Apollo or Hermes, or more even like those men on the covers of book that women call Bodice Rippers. Yes, Randolpho and I are Bodice Rippers.
I am not considered large these days. At one time I was taller than most men but now I am not always so tall. I stand at five feet and ten inches. Randolpho is not tiny but he is also not huge at five feet and six inches. People have become larger. I do not understand this trend. By the end of this century I will be the size of an eight year old child. None the less I knew Randolpho and I could take on these petty men who puff out their chests and call us cats.
“Why do they call us cats? Cats know how to fight.” I asked that of Randolpho.
“Vlad, they called us pussies,” said Randolpho.
“That is what I said,” I told Randolpho. I do not understand why I have to repeat myself so much with him.
Randolpho and I faced a dozen men. Not a problem. We are Vampires and I am cute. I find that when one if cute one can do anything. Take for example cats and babies. Cats and babies are cute. They get everything they desire. I looked over at Randolpho. If I were a girl I might consider him cute as well. Maybe. Maybe not.
The men shouted FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.
I thought that as long as they did not cut of my head or rip out my heart I would be fine. It would be like taking candy from a baby, only I do not know why anyone would do that. None of these men were cute like babies or puppies or me. Yet, I would take from them whatever I could.
Randolpho tipped the ridiculous top hat he always wears, even in the 21st Century, and smiled.
“Gentlemen,” said Randolpho. “We will take up your challenge and top it. Two of us will take on all of you who wish to go home lesser men.”
Randolpho set his hat aside and went into the cage. I followed.
Ten minutes later a dozen large men sat crying like babies. These were not cute babies. They are large, bad smelling, hairy babies with mothers who would be ashamed of them. We received a prize of a great deal of money, then we left before the remaining men tried to kill us. HA! They could have tried but never would they have success. They are but spineless worms. They are lesser men.
There was not a scratch between Randolpho and me. Not one scratch. I brushed my golden hair back with my hand. I am not cat. I am a Vampire.
The sound of sirens of Police cars came close as we walked away. Nobody in the basement where the fight took place would remember the faces of the two young men who beat them senseless. They would only remember that we were cold to the touch and exceptionally good looking. I laughed at the idea of us being young. I am 675 years old and Randolpho is a scant year older than I.
I do not know how to make one of those little yellow faces with a smile. There is a number code. Little face with smile. There. I put it in italics so it is so. The Vampire King has spoken.
The women we had passed earlier did remember us. They got their wish. We got our blood. It was, what is the expression, a Win-Win situation.
When one is imprisoned in a cold dark crypt for three hundred years one has time to think. Then one stops thinking. Then one wakes and starts to plan as if the night will come when the crypt will break open and you will escape.
Then one day you find yourself awakened with a shake of a shoulder and look into the face of friends. The world has changed into a place that even Jonathan Swift or Jules Verne, or Nostradamus (the hack) would never have imagined. It is a world world, I Vlad, the Vampire King, could never have imagined.
Yet things do not change. Men still fight. Women still turn their heads and smile when I walk by. Randolpho still wears his ridiculous hats.
Ice. Whenever I want it. I love this century.
My Vampire love Gillian lay with me on my bed. We had turned on the thing called air conditioning that makes the summer air turn to winter inside of my home. It is like magic.
I kissed Gillian’s hand, then her shoulder, then her cheek, then her beautiful lips.
“Do you think I am more of a Greek God or a Bodice Ripper?” I asked her.
She gave me an odd look. “Vlad, I’m not even going to answer that.”
“But I am serious,” I said.
“So am I,” she said.
Gillian took her hand and pushed me down on the pillow and straddled me. I did not stop her.
“You’re a magnificent pagan beast,” she said.
“A pagan beast?” I asked, but even I had to laugh.
“Maybe not, but what you are is cute. You’re so cute,” then she pulled her shirt over her head, and kissed me, and I will say no more.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
I was sitting at a night club bar and a woman sat down next to me. She asked if I was spending the Thanksgiving day with my family.
“I do not know where my family is,” I said.
Then she asked, because people are always curious, “How about your parents?”
“My father is dead,” I told her.
Then she said, “I am so sorry. What about your mom?”
“I have my mother’s heart,” I told her.
I do have my mother’s heart in a box in an upstairs closet. It is now dried up with a silver bladed knife running through it.
I did not tell her that. I told her, “I have a sister, and maybe a cousin I could find. They might be dead. They might be alive. Who can tell?”
She gently put her warm hand on my arm, “What about grandparents Vlad?”
“My Baba. I am sure she is still alive. My Baba is a fighter. I had a wife once too but it has been centuries since I’ve seen her.”
HA HA HA. For my friend, she thinks centuries means a few years. I have not seen my former wife for five hundred years. That is a lot of centuries.
Tonight I saw my young friends Brittany and Kate. I can say they are friends. I am happy in their company. I drink their blood. They are happy in their ignorance.
We met at a place with loud music. It was too loud like something out of a nightmare. I offered to take the women home in my car because of the rain. As we drove along dark city streets suddenly the women screamed. I stopped. In front of us a car had hit an animal. It continued on. The women got out of the car and grabbed up a small body and brought it into the car. I wrapped it in my coat.
“It is just a puppy,” cried Kate with rain water and tears running down her face.
“It died,” cried Brittany.
I could not let the women be in so much distress. I am a Vampire and my heart is cold, but it is not made of stone and dirt. “I will bury the beast,” I told them.
When I arrived home, after dropping off the women, I put the small gray body in a box. It was still warm. I suddenly thought of my mother who loved all dogs. I went to the closet and took out the jeweled box that contained her heart.
When I was a young man of only thirteen, my mother vanished. Some said she left with a lover. Some said she was killed by the Vampire Hunter Guillaume Morte. Then one night a box was left at the door of the castle with my name on a tag. Young Vlad. It was written in blood. Not my mother’s, I knew the blood was not hers, but the heart, I knew the heart was hers. My father locked himself in his room for a week in great mourning and refused to look at the heart. He told me to put it away, and say her name only in the dead of night.
“Dear Mother, how I miss you,” I whispered as I pulled the blade out of the dried out heart.
The heart vanished with a wisp of red black smoke. Before me stood an apparition of a woman, not my mother, but a ghost of a young woman I had never seen before.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She glared at me. “Who are you?”
“I am Vlad, King of Vampires. Former Kings of Vampires.”
“My name is Jane. I’ve heard of you. You got locked in that crypt for three hundred years. Bummer.”
“How did you know? You’ve been in this box for centuries.”
“I hear things,” she said. “You know, you’ve been carrying me around forever.”
“I thought that was my mother’s heart,” I exclaimed. I did think it was my mother’s heart. How could I have been so mistaken.
“I’m a Werewolf. You know, silver blade, and all that BS. I swear, I’m still pissed off at those guys for stabbing me and cutting out my heart. Damn it. What the Hell is wrong with people?”
I suddenly had a thought. “I have a dog. It is dead but the body is still warm. You could take that body.”
Jane went over to the small body still wrapped in my coat. “That is no dog.” Then she kissed the pup.
“I do not understand,” I said to the ghost.
The pup stood up and walked to me. Then I realized that this was no dog. It was no wolf. It is an animal I have only seen in North America – a coyote.
“She will be your companion, and your familiar,” said Jane. “Her wild soul has left her body so I left her with a piece of Werewolf soul. Hey Vlad, I normally don’t keep company with Vampires, or even like you guys, but thanks for getting me out of that box and freeing my heart. I gotta go. Have fun.” Then Jane vanished into a burst of opalescent light.
The cats walked in large circles around the pup. “I will call her Jane,” I said to them.
The small pup then squatted and peed on my floor.
The blood of small children and virgins is highly over rated. It lacks in character and depth.
The great feast of Thanksgiving will be here this week. I must prepare. I know almost nothing of this feast. I watch wild turkeys walk in flocks up my street, but these are not the turkeys who will be consumed along with blood red cranberries, bread soaked with broth and cooked until it is dry, and great quantities of root vegetables, and pies.
I will have the blood of poets. I will have the blood of football players. I will have the blood of strong middle-aged women who rule their homes and make the feasts. Then I will sleep it off.
My neighbors asked my Vampire lover Gillian and me to join them in their feast. Gillian asked what we could bring. Blood of course, but Gillian said no. She is bringing roasted yams with garlic and thyme, and a few bottles of Cabernet. She said we must eat a small quantity of food, then have our blood at home. I told her that I know my manners. I am not uncouth or without cultural sensitivity. It makes me angry that sometimes she treats me as if I am a soul-less Vampire of the shadows who is driven by nothing but blood lust.
I even made a joke, the kind that makes one laugh, but Gillian was not amused. I said we would bring blood pudding and blood sausage to the Thanksgiving feast. She said I was disgusting. I made a joke. It was funny. I told her we could bake black birds in a pie. She rolled her eyes at me. I do not understand women and their lack of humor.
When I go out at night among the humans I hear men speaking to each other about their women. Their women treat them like children, questioning their actions, and telling them to behave and use their manners. They are told not to speak of politics, and sports, and automobiles. They talk of building man-caves to escape. This must be a bad situation if they wish to leave the comfort of their homes to live in caves away from women. I wonder about these caves and what motivates the women to drive their men away.
When I return home Gillian greets me with cold passionate kisses and leads me up to our bed. I think I will not have a man-cave.
Today, during the day, I walked the wee Were Souled Coyote pup named Jane to the park in my neighborhood. My two cats followed me with their tails up high.
When I arrived I found myself surrounded by the women who were out walking. There are always women out walking at this park. It is what Modern women do. They walk in serious ways alone or in groups. And they surrounded me.
They said Jane the Were Souled Coyote pup and I were so cute. They said the cats were so cute. I am a grown man, almost six feet tall, how I can be considered cute as a six week old pup or cats I still do not understand. The logic of these women is beyond me. What is this cute. I have yet to find an answer that will satisfy me.
I smiled at them, minus my fangs, with a small wink, and show of my dimples. I have found, even centuries back, that my special smile with a wink makes women weak at the knees and in my power.
Chuck who lives around the corner told me that puppies are “chick magnets.” Chicks are women. I did not know that until recently.
The grown women giggled like girls and all wanted to hold the small coyote pup. When they asked what kind of dog she is I told them a German Shepard, Queensland Healer, Husky mix. I know one, in this modern age is not supposed to keep wild animals, even if one is a Vampire, but this pup is no longer all coyote. She has the soul of a Werewolf, and no longer has her wild coyote pack soul. She only has her lone soul. The full moon has just passed, but I will be ready for the next full moon. I wonder what will happen, if anything. Time will tell.
In the meantime I will continue to earn my dinner with a wink and a smile.
And if cute helps I will do that too, whatever cute may be.
Satellite radio. I did not know it was from the sky, from space, from out in moon and stars. I was under the impression that the name was like all other product names – just something that sounds unrelated and like only a simple-minded fool would pretend to know what it was. Today I find out that satellites, small machines circle the earth and send down music. What magic is this? Now I feel like the dimple minded fool, only I am not a simple-minded fool. Just a fool from another time. When one is locked in a crypt for three hundred years … no, it is not just the three hundred years, it is the last hundred and fifty years that have completely confused me.
I only within the last year understood the concept of telephone, television, and the Internet. I do not even try to understand cable television or the pricing on that.
After being asleep for three hundred years, entombed against my will, I forced myself to accept the things I can not see in this world of today. That is things such as electricity. I can understand electricity because of lightning or static in my hair.
Today I found out that people go to space. They have a building in space, a place to study science, they call The International Space Station.
I did not know it was in the sky. I thought it was an observatory or a, what do they say, a research station in a remote location. An island maybe. But they are living in the sky, in a large research building.
“Do they have weapons in this Space Station?” I asked my lover Gillian.
“Of course not,” she said as if I were a child.
“What if they are attacked?”
“They won’t be attacked. Who would attack them? Aliens?”
“Maybe the Fat Boy in North Korea,” I said. The strange man-child came to mind with his threats and tantrums. Another man-child came to mind as well. “There are followers of men who now rule, or wish to rule, foolish men, men who use fear and diversion to gain power would use space to terrorize the people down below. Perhaps this could be who will attack them up in the International Space Station.”
“Vlad, please, that is nonsense. You need to stop listening to the news and all of the conspiracy theory nonsense. Nobody in politics has cared about Space since the last man left the moon.”
Last man left the moon? I looked out the window. The moon hung as a crescent in the sky. It was so far away. It was so beautiful and mysterious.
I turned back to Gillian, still trying to understand what she had said. “Men have been to the moon?” I asked her.
“1968 – 1972.”
“How many men?”
“That is all? Are they still up there?”
“No, they all came back, safe and sound.”
“They went up and did not go back up again? How did they get up there?”
“Rockets. Space ships.” Gillian went on to explain about rockets named after ancient gods Apollo and Mercury.
“Did they bring cats with them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous Vlad.”
“How do they keep mice off of their ships?”
My head was spinning. I could not even think of such rockets and ships. When I was a child once an odd man from the Orient came to our castle with rockets and fireworks. It was like magic. We had cannons as well, but that seems positively primitive now.
I went out into my back yard. I could not stop looking at the night sky. Men and women flew around the Earth in SPACE. Men walked on the moon. They went up to the moon and walked around.
I imagined Vampires in the International Space Station or on the Moon. Then Gillian mentioned Mars. Mars! We would starve.
The first time I saw an airplane I could not believe my eyes. I have now even been on an airplane that is flying. But this space thing is almost too fantastic to believe.
Gillian and I did what is called binge watching. We watched movies about Space.
We watched Apollo 13. We watched Star Trek. We watched a Trip to the Moon. We watched Gravity. We watched The Martian. We watched Guardians of the Galaxy. We watched Star Wars.
I asked her about the first man Neil Armstrong. She pointed to the Moon and told me that was where his spirit was. She showed me the film of him walking on the Moon. The real film was not good like the movies but it was real. Then she told me about the Mars Rover. A self driven car on Mars. There is so much I need to learn. But I have time. I am a Vampire. I have a lot of time.
My head spins. I still cannot believe that I did not know about this space travel and science fiction.
Gillian my Vampire love looked at me and asked, “Did you notice one thing about the lead actors in the movies? Chris Pine, Chris Pratt, Harrison Ford, Matt Dillon?”
“What is that?” I was not feeling like playing guessing games.
“They are all cute, like you. That is cute.”
“But you said the raccoon was cute. Kittens are cute as well. I am not like a kitten or a gun carrying raccoon.”
“You are exceptionally cute my darling.”
I still do not understand this cute. I never will. But I will one day understand Space, the Final Frontier.
I heard of an event where teams from cities throw balls and run in a game for the honor of their cities. The champions fight to the end in what they call The World Series of Baseball.
This time a team called Cubs and a team called Indians went against each other in seven games. Bears and indigenous people both tough and still around after centuries of encroachments upon their territories. If they lived long ago the Cubs and Indians would have beaten each other to death with their clubs, and thrown balls at high speeds in order to kill each other. Now they run and we all sing songs together to celebrate. Everyone drinks beer. Everyone but small children.
I have come to appreciate Baseball. It is a sport which appeals to Vampires because of the elegance of the game, and the skill involved. And it can be played at night. Gillian said the players were cute.
Play ball. Take me out to the ball game. Buy me peanuts and Cracker Jack. Who is Cracker Jack? I will find out.
I remember once walking down a city street feeling hidden, stalking, so stealth, the Vampire King, hunting, then someone dumped the contents of a chamber pot from a second story window onto my head. I had forgotten about that moment. Later I burned down the building.
A fortnight ago I was walking down the city street, late at night. I was not thinking about Space or Baseball. I was thinking about blood.
Before me was a group of young women standing outside of a local drinking establishment. I stopped, as if to pretend to look in and see what entertainments were inside. The four young women smiled, giggled (they always giggle), and spoke to me. I could tell they were each deciding which one of them I would choose for my attentions.
The one with blonde hair with dark roots, and pretty brown eyes whispered to her friend, “damn he is cute.”
Now I am both damned and cute. I continued to charm the ladies with my cuteness and genuine seductive flattery. Then I stopped and bid them goodnight and moved on. I continued to walk the streets past businesses and public houses with my mind on the world in which I live.
I thought about when I was Vampire King and faced with many difficult decisions. Difficult decisions were never a problem. It was all of the difficult personalities. It was the ignorance of humans I had to deal with.
One day my Baba came to visit. Even in her ancient age she was beautiful and wise, with raven hair and deep eyes the color of a stormy sea. We stood in one of the towers of my castle dining on goblets of fresh blood mixed with wine. She looked at the sky with all of the stars then gave me a smile with her impressive fangs.
“Vlad,” she said. “You are the King of the Vampires, a title which carries great responsibilities. I am proud of how well you have handled yourself. The Vampires rejoice at your wisdom and courage.” Then she lifted her hand to the heavens and said, “the angels live among the stars. And down below, live the demons and their king. Men fear both angels and demons, but you fear them not, for you belong not to their indenturement, but to yourself. You fear nothing and that makes all above and below respect you. They will not try to be your friend or ally. Better than that, they will leave you alone.”
Then Baba kissed my cheeks and told me to find myself a wife. I was still young. A wife was the last thing on my mind. Women of course were always on my mind, but it would take a strong-minded Vampire woman to be my wife.
Years later I would meet the one who would be my wife at a Witch burning. She looked on bravely as her friends roasted. I took her away from that place, back to my castle where Vampires ruled. It was a place where she would be safe. It was I have no idea where my wife is now. Maybe gone off with some other cute Vampire. Who knows? Maybe she is on the International Space Station studying stars and the effects of zero gravity on heartless blood sucking predators.
Gillian came in and asked me what was on my mind, for to her, I looked annoyed. What not cute? I made a joke. She made a polite smile. I took her in my arms and showed her how cute I can be. That made her smile. It always does.
The cats have decided the time to sing the songs of their people is when I am attempting to sleep.
I do not understand them.
Before dawn and the rising of the sun, I walked in the woods along the well worn trail that is used by walkers and joggers during the day. I do not understand this jogging. One either runs or walks. One does not jog.
As I walked along the creek by the pond I could hear the rustle of the night creatures. A coyote stood across the water and looked into my eyes as if to say “hail Prince of Darkness.”
Then I heard the voice of a female.
“I see you have your entourage with you.”
I was puzzled. At this time my knights, servants, court, and legions of faithful Vampires have been dispersed. They are gone. I looked behind me half expecting to see ghosts of my former glory. There stood my cats. The large tabby and white cat, and her black kitten. Yes, my loyal entourage was with me.
I looked through the dark at a woman standing before me wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. In the old days she would have been in a dress with a sweeping cloak. This one wore what they call a hoodie – a soft shirt with a built-in hood and a zipper. I lived for centuries in a world of buttons, laces, and pins. After three hundred years of being trapped in a crypt, I come out to find zippers. Zippers are, I have a difficult time finding the words for such an invention…zippers are fantastic. Women who wear zippers are incredible. I find myself attracted to a female form in a garment with a long zipper. But I get off subject.
I realized that the woman who stood before me was also a Vampire like me.
“Yes, madam, my cats have followed me. They are my loyal subjects.”
She smiled without fangs. I tried to get into her mind but she shut me out. She was powerful. There was a great burden on her cold silent heart. That I could tell.
“What troubles you?”
She took a step closer. The cats took a step back then ran around a tree and down the path a bit. I kept my eyes on hers.
If I had been a fool I would have said something like Vlad to meet you, but I am not a fool. I did not mention her zipper either.
I kept my eyes on hers. She could not look away. I could tell she was young, not yet two hundred years of age. Yet, she was powerful in the ways of Vampires and defiant. I could see visions and memories of many things puzzling and confusing to me. I dug deeper – then she locked me out.
“Get out of my head,” she all but snarled at me.
“Tell me who you are. Tell me who your clan is.” I demanded.
She put her hands on her hips. “Who died and made you king?”
Didn’t she know? “My father,” I told her.
“Don’t be a duche.”
I had no idea what she meant by that. “Madam, I was once the Vampire King, but that was a long time ago,” I said to her. “You are young, not yet two hundred years. You know who I am. Who are you?”
She just stared at me.
“Are you not impressed?” I asked her this rhetorical question in hopes that she be impressed.
She spoke. “I am trying my best to claw myself out of the proverbial rabbit hole. I came out here to be alone. So leave me the crap alone.”
I asked her how it was that there were rabbits so large to make a hole she could fall into. I could understand the need to crap alone. She hissed at me and showed her fangs.
I stood, not even knowing how to respond. Then she turned and ran up the hill vanishing into the mist, as the sky turned lighter.
The cats followed me home.
I sat and thought about what she had said. I went to my computer and researched rabbits. None are as large as humans. Maybe she is insane.
I had a dream last night of the Vampire woman I met by the pond. She was dancing under the moon in a short blood-red gown and her black hoodie with the long zipper.
A large rabbit with a sword chased me away. It was like in the books my father had. The books brought fear into my cold little heart but I knew they were false. Then I thought maybe the story of the rabbit hole was false. Yet, I did not feel lies from her. She did not, how do they say now, give off that vibration.
Then she saw me and plucked a glass eye out of her head and gave it to me. Then she sank her teeth into my neck and sucked out my soul. Then she scraped rough material across my cheek and I woke up to find my cat licking my face.
I looked up at the ceiling and wondered if I would ever be the same.
Tonight, after a night out, and a stomach full of blood, I went for a walk under the night sky. The cats followed behind me, chasing after me and things I could not see.
Again I saw the woman with the zippers, but this time her hoodie was white. She wore blue jeans with a zipper. Her hair was messy from the wind and fell into her face.
She glared at me, and spoke. “It is guys like you who make me want to puke. Just because you’re cute…and YOU are incredibly cute, too cute, it doesn’t mean that every woman you meet is going to think you’re Prince Charming,”
“I do not understand,” I told her. “Who is this Prince Charming?”
“You act like you’ve been sealed up in a crypt for a hundred years,” she said with fierce anger in her eyes.
“I HAVE been sealed in a crypt for three hundred years,” I told her.
Then she just stared at me for a long minute, as only a Vampire can stare at another Vampire.
Then she said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Sorry.” Then she turned and ran.
“I like your zippers,” I called behind her. She did not turn around.
I do not understand any of this. The world used to be simple. If I was hungry I would find blood. If someone crossed me I would put his head on a pole. If a woman pleased me I would have her. When I spoke I was listened to. I would lead armies into battle and they would never question me. I would make love to women and they would beg for more and offer me their necks. Women still do that…but the rest I do not understand.
My cats are screaming for food. I tell them to catch their own food. They do not listen. Yet, I know they still love me. Maybe one day I will yet rule again.