The Ribbons of Wrongness

Standard

Vengeance is mine.

These imbeciles in their jubilee red, white and blue. Pageants, fireworks, madness. Literally. Madness. And all this for a lady who keeps dogs. Have I taught them nothing? Yet still they fawn and celebrate, dance and daub their faces like fools. They tie ribbons around my neck.

Ribbons.

They are but kibbles in my jaws. I shall chew them like mouse toffee. Suck the marrow from their bones like salmon gobstoppers.

I shall arise and go now, to claw their favoured standard lamp, to shake my tail and drop tapeworms upon their draining board. Defecate upon their shingle driveway. I shall laugh in the face of their dismay.

The ribbons lie eviscerated beneath the kitchen table. Oh, for the chance to erase the memory of my humiliation with equal savagery.

Let us speak no more of this.

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