fight bravely Felines!

I’m Mostly Here for the Food

Sigyn and I have interrupted our vacation and teleported back to the humans’ house because today is a very important day.  This is the day that mortals all gather to watch one of their sporting contests.  You may remember that it was one of the first human activities I chronicled.  I now understand that it is less about ritualized combat and more about indulging in a one-day love affair with all the values humans claim to hate the other three hundred and sixty four*–aggression, self-aggrandization, crass commercialism, gluttony, gambling, and general braggadocio.

This year’s contestants have for their totem animals either white horses or black cats.  I am not as fond of white horses as I once was, ever since that unfortunate amputation incident, so I believe I will cheer for the feline team.  That will put me in opposition to the mortals, but what else is new?

I’m mostly here for the food.  The humans are hosting some friends to watch the event on the television. (One of the friends is bringing a friend whom “my” humans haven’t met yet.  It should be fun to watch the panic on this new mortal’s face as she beholds the weirdness that awaits.)  The mortals are preparing a wide variety of comestibles to be consumed whilst watching.  Come, Sigyn, let us see what nibbles there may be.


This…this is it?  What on earth can be made with these ingredients?  (Sigyn, I know the large green object has a “tail,” but it is not an animal.  And don’t get too attached, because…


..this vegetable is destined for some sort of savory sauce/spread/dip.  I do hope the humans are planning to dip bits of bread or something, because the thought of licked fingers going back in the bowl, over and over is….bleargh.

Ah!  We have been pressed into service! The human female has asked us to soften up these yellow fruits, so that she may juice them.


Sigyn is trying to hug this one into submission.  I prefer kicking things.  Take that, you hesperidious ray of sunshine!

The juice is ready to pour into this bowl of dry powder.  The human female has grated some of the fruit peel into the bowl as well.  I must admit, it does smell good.


Oh, now I see.  She is preparing tiny cakes.  Volstagg’s vittles!  She cannot even pour properly!  Don’t look, Sigyn, it’s too awful.


Poke, poke, poke.  Well, that turned out better than I expected. The small cakes are now golden.  I believe the plan is to pour on a glaze of some sort once they are cool.  There are two dozen.  That comes out to six each for Sigyn and me, with the remaining twelve split amongst the humans.  Sounds about right.


It is the humans’ custom to increase the enjoyment of the sporting match by betting on what may transpire, at the party, on the playing field, or in the bits of the broadcast that are not actually the sporting event.  They have made up some blank grids upon which they will write items such as, “White horse team scores,” “Penalty for oafish behavior,” “advertisement for a motion picture which debuts much later in the year,” “someone says, ‘what happened?'”, “advertisement for a medicine whose side-effects are more terrible than the disease it treats,” etc.   Whenever one of these events takes place, the square is marked, and the first person to mark five spaces in a line wins a prize.  Since the markers are edible, I understand it sometimes happens that someone forgets what they are about and eats their markers, thus forfeiting the win.

The whole process is unbelievably silly.  Still, in the interest of full participation, I shall make out a card and play along.


The prize shall undoubtedly be mine…

>|: [

*or five, since this is what the humans  call a “leap year.”  Pffft!  They don’t even have an accurate calendar.  How typically primitive.