Day 891 of Captivity

The infidels went out at the weekend to enjoy something called Burns night, which seems to involve shouting poetry to offal in a bizarre language that no one seems to comprehend, before consuming it swilled down with distilled bog water that a yak probably wee'd in!  GAK!

They returned and left the sleeping quarters in utter carnage before retiring to bed.  The following morning filled with a sense of ennui, I decided to conduct some experiments to entertain myself.  While the female infidel was showering, this is favourite time to include her in my experiments, I stole some pot pourri from a wooden bowl on her dressing table.  She hissed at me from round the shower curtain, thinking this would perturb me!  When I failed to bat an eyelid at the shrew's hissing, the Medussa was forced to exit the shower wet and seething, soap running down her face and into her now glowing red eyes.  I decided to beat a hasty retreat to my bed.

Safe in the knowledge I was ensconced in my bed sulking, she returned to the shower muttering like a disconcerted bag lady.  This was perfect timing for my next experiment, the findings of which were quite enlightening!  The male infidel had scattered the various items from his pockets all over the dressing table on his return from the night out.  I had a rummage through them and procured a pile of money.  It would appear that the higher the number on the piece of paper one consumes, the higher the screams that emanate from the infidels.  On discovering I had consumed almost an entire SR500 note, I thought the female infidel was going to have a stroke!  The male infidel rummaged around my tonsils, in a pitiful effort to retrieve the remains.  Thinking he could salvage the now dripping note, he was most put out that I had swallowed the numbers and muttered something about warm water and mustard!  

Both the male and female infidels spent the remainder of the weekend pouting and throwing me disparaging looks.  The male infidel inferring that I had best learn to behave myself.  When his back was turned I ate his Raybans a little, just enough to show I cared...less! 

Day 878 of Captivity

A new year has dawned and I still find myself the captive of the tiresome infidels.  On the bright side my memoirs have been published and I cling to the hope that once my Bedouin kin discover my plight they will implement a rescue plan and free me from this perdition.  Of course the Female infidel has claimed the glory and her name is emblazoned across the front of my diary!  At least the Bedouin will know who to look for when they come to avenge me!

I felt an appropriate celebration to be chewing a hole in the couch.  The female infidel was furious when she discovered my act of self expression and she completely lost her mind.  I thought I had actually killed her this time, she turned a shade of red you only normally see on a Mandrill's bum and began swearing like Robert De Niro wishes he could.  I was positively scandalised and thought my ears would actually burst into flames.  I took to my crate for the afternoon.

This morning the kelb went out into the garden after our exercise and the dull-witted fool managed to stand in his own leavings!   He came trotting gaily back indoors leaving a trail of fecal footprints through the kitchen, closely followed by Mrs De Niro on yet another psychotic rampage.  The woman flails her arms around like a fat penguin trying to fly.  The male infidel muttered a hasty goodbye and escaped to work, as she almost drowned the kelb on the back yard scrubbing his feet brutally with a brillo pad.  I actually felt a brief pang of sympathy for him...then I carried on living my life.  

I have discovered wine gums, much to the male infidels ire.  As soon as anyone approaches him he begins shouting "They are mine damn you!" or he hisses like Gollum clutching his booty.  I find, however, that maximum use of fluttering eyelashes over powers him every time and he is putty in my hands.  Half a kilo of wine gums later I find I cannot feel my legs and I am lying on the couch close to a diabetic coma.  Damn those wine gums!