I, Effing Feline, miss my mummy. I bet you think cats don’t care about our mummies, but that’s just vicious anti-feline prejudice.
I think about Mum’s loving tongue cleaning my ears. The comforting feel of her mouth as she picked me up by the scruff of her neck. The bat of her elegant paw as she warned me not to provoke the Doberman by scratching its rear end as it ate.
And now she’s disappeared from her mouser job at the violin factory. Mummy!
Last week I introduced the hero of Mr. V’s Alien Contact for Kid Sisters. Here’s the heroine, Marianne Harmon, who has celebrated a bit too much at the Royal Ball with Prince Charming, who isn’t her Mr. Right. But be forewarned, Marianne’s not a mother.
“I don’t know the rules on your world, buddy, but on my planet gentlemen don’t take advantage of ineeb…ineep…drunken ladies.” Marianne wagged a finger at him.
“Vast difference, m’dear, between tipsy and drunk.” Prince Reese held up three fingers. “How many do you see?”
Without a trace of a smile, Reese looked at her. He always waited patiently when she tried to joke — it was his most annoying trait.
“Okay, three,” she grumbled. Sure, she was a lousy comedienne, but did he have to stare?
Kid Sisters is available for pre-order on Amazon. Be sure to check out the other posts for today’s Eight Sentence Sunday. And call your mum while you still can, eh?
And one more thing: the first book in this series, Alien Contact for Idiots, is available for free on Amazon Sunday and Monday.