Several days ago, Auntie Judy gave Annabelle and Thatch a Donald Trump catnip toy. As soon as I showed it to them, Annabelle examined it closely and said, I’d rather have some Donald Trump clumping litter to really voice my opinion.
Watch it, Missy, I said, or you too will end up in Facebook Gaol!
Why are you in jail? Thatch asked.
They claimed that something I posted about a public figure violated Facebook policies.
What did you say? Thatch asked.
I don’t really know, since I hate the Trump administration so much. I think they said it was for calling Sarah Huckabee Sanders a lying white trash cow.
That’s mild for you, Annabelle said.
It wasn’t worth being banned for a month. I suspect Facebook might be controlled by the dark side.
When are you out of prison? she asked me. Thatch and I have things to post and fans to respond to. Your incarceration has been very vexing to us.
December 7, I answered.
Well, I’m tired of waiting.
Me, too! Thatch yelled. When he’s emphatic, he’s noisy.
You’re tired of waiting? I’ve missed birthdays, important messages, and notifications. And worse, animals at the ACC were being killed on my watch since I couldn’t do any networking.
They kill animals there? Thatch was clearly shocked.
I told you I would tell you about that when you were older, Annabelle told him. Thanks for nothing, Daddy.
Then, why, Thatch asked, do they call it an Animal Care Center if they don’t care?
I handed Annabelle the catnip toy. Here, go play with Donald Trump.
I thought no more about the toy until this morning while I was making the bed and stepped on it.
Annabelle? Thatch? I asked, What did you do to your toy Auntie Judy gave you?
Ate it, Thatch said.
Shredded it, Annabelle answered. I blame him for this daylight savings time madness.
I told you, Missy, he’s doing horrible things to the country and people, but daylight savings time is not something he did.
She jumped onto the computer table.
I refuse to believe you, Annabelle said. I will check Google. Just in case, you understand.
I finished making the bed and pushed it back into place. Thatch, who had crawled under the folded comforter at the bottom of the bed, yelled, Again! Do it again!
I pushed the bed from the wall, then pushed it back.
Do it again, he yelled.
I did. Then again. And then again.
Okay, Thatch, I said, that’s enough fun. Daddy’s tired. Let’s have a treat and celebrate.
Annabelle turned from the computer. Celebrate what?
It’s December 7. I’m out of Facebook Gaol, I told them.
Annabelle sharply observed me.
Well, Thatch, she said, we’ll see how long this lasts.
©2018, Larry Moore
Annabelle & Thatch 