Inspired by Kit Whitfield, I’m going to try my hand at recording some of the lovely conversations I have with my self-appointed familiar, Beatrice.
Literata (eating lunch)
Beatrice: Wat is? I can haz?
L: Yes, and no.
B: Not funneh, mama.
L: Is my lunch.
B: Noms! I wants!
L: You has your noms. In the bowl. Your bowl.
B: I wants your noms! You eat it, must be good.
L: My noms are mine! I microwaved them specially for myself!
B: Yehs. Thus they specially good and should be shared wif me.
L: You won’t like it.
B: Lemme try.
L: It’s not good for you.
B: Never know. What is?
L: Wat, an Ethiopian stew with lots of chickpeas and vegetables and plants and stuff. Not even any meat. Nothing cats like.
B: Lemme try!
L: (sighs, holds out fingertip’s worth of stew)
B: Nom….hmm. Nom nom nom nom.
L: But it doesn’t even have anything you like in it!
B: Yehs it does. I likes it now. Moar?
L: (sighs, finishes bowl as fast as possible, lets B lick a little more from the nearly-empty bowl, then puts it away)
B: (licking whiskers) Now wat?