L o r r i e
Vegetable platter on top
Sir Muffington III stared at the plate in front of him as if it had personally insulted generations of his ancestors. Broccoli. Carrots. Raw. Cold. Offensive.
"Look into my eyes, Dave," he said, without turning his head. "Just look. One more second of this green disgrace, and I’ll rip out my own fur. I’d rather be bald than eat broccoli."
Dave, lean and smug, lounged behind him, clearly amused. “You’re being dramatic,” he said with a purr. “It’s just vegetables.”
Sir Muffington’s tail twitched. “I hate broccoli. I’ve always hated broccoli. My grandfather used to say, If you ever eat broccoli, your teeth will turn to dust.’ He was a wise cat, Dave. A philosopher.”
Dave yawned. “So what now? Hunger strike?”
“No,” Sir Muffington said with slow, deliberate dignity. “I’m packing my things. I’m moving out.” Dave blinked. “Wait, what?”
“The neighbor feeds me,” Muffington continued, as if revealing a secret alliance. “Three times a day. Real food. Tuna. Chicken. Joy. I’ll hide in her garden, vanish like a legend, and reappear in a few days… thinner, maybe wounded but noble.”
“You’re insane,” Dave muttered, now genuinely worried.
“I hope I’ll be missed,” Sir Muffington whispered.
And with one final glance at the vegetable plate, he turned, his fur full of pride and silent judgment.
Because those who serve broccoli…
shall dine in loneliness. 🐾
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi – All rights reserved.
**My heart, my words. Please respect them.**
Dear reader,
These words you are reading right now, whether it's a poem, a short story, or a thought is a piece of my soul. I write with passion, each word flowing from my heart, deeply connected to me. My writings are not just words; they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them. are not just words they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them.
If you plan to take them without my permission, know this: you are also taking a piece of my soul. And with every stolen word, I will always be present within the lines you use.
So be mindful… You never know what lies hidden between the lines, for words hold a power that goes far beyond the visible.💫
Vegetable platter on top
Sir Muffington III stared at the plate in front of him as if it had personally insulted generations of his ancestors. Broccoli. Carrots. Raw. Cold. Offensive.
"Look into my eyes, Dave," he said, without turning his head. "Just look. One more second of this green disgrace, and I’ll rip out my own fur. I’d rather be bald than eat broccoli."
Dave, lean and smug, lounged behind him, clearly amused. “You’re being dramatic,” he said with a purr. “It’s just vegetables.”
Sir Muffington’s tail twitched. “I hate broccoli. I’ve always hated broccoli. My grandfather used to say, If you ever eat broccoli, your teeth will turn to dust.’ He was a wise cat, Dave. A philosopher.”
Dave yawned. “So what now? Hunger strike?”
“No,” Sir Muffington said with slow, deliberate dignity. “I’m packing my things. I’m moving out.” Dave blinked. “Wait, what?”
“The neighbor feeds me,” Muffington continued, as if revealing a secret alliance. “Three times a day. Real food. Tuna. Chicken. Joy. I’ll hide in her garden, vanish like a legend, and reappear in a few days… thinner, maybe wounded but noble.”
“You’re insane,” Dave muttered, now genuinely worried.
“I hope I’ll be missed,” Sir Muffington whispered.
And with one final glance at the vegetable plate, he turned, his fur full of pride and silent judgment.
Because those who serve broccoli…
shall dine in loneliness. 🐾
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi – All rights reserved.
**My heart, my words. Please respect them.**
Dear reader,
These words you are reading right now, whether it's a poem, a short story, or a thought is a piece of my soul. I write with passion, each word flowing from my heart, deeply connected to me. My writings are not just words; they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them. are not just words they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them.
If you plan to take them without my permission, know this: you are also taking a piece of my soul. And with every stolen word, I will always be present within the lines you use.
So be mindful… You never know what lies hidden between the lines, for words hold a power that goes far beyond the visible.💫