*SPOILER WARNING* this post may contain references to how bodily functions and interior decoration can be combined to the delight and entertainment of the entire family….
Now having no children of our own (unless you count the spawn of demons that we have no doubt created by simply existing…) we see no reason at all to act our age…we still proudly enjoy fairy tale books, running in the halls and playing with toys. OK. Splendor does, Seraph is completely normal and acts like an adult all of the time…hmmm…really? But seriously, we will be the first to admit that we DID NOT need to buy another miniature ceramic furniture set (including a sofa, two side chairs with an ottoman and a grand piano with a removable lid.) As to what we are planning to do with the set we have no idea whatsoever. Perhaps another elaborate yet rustic fairy parlor decorated with tiny skeletons, dead spiders or a family of taxidermy frogs. We have noticed other people use their cabinet space to store more useful things such as china, books or linens while we create spooky haunted dollhouses that would give Edgar Allan Poe the creeps (if he were ever to stop by and visit our collection of ravens, that is…)
Everyone knows that dolls completely suck and do not deserve furniture of their own, but pet sized furniture is completely acceptable. The only drawback is convincing the little darlings that sleeping in a Tony Duquette-esque roomscape is not a threat to their own design esthetics. If we were to have ever made a bed like for our beloved cat Kitche she would have looked at it with amusement and distain and then set it on fire with her eyes…She much preferred to sleep on the most inconvenient thing at hand (such as our heads) or the most expensive object in the room that DID NOT BELONG TO HER.
Did we ever tell you the story about the time when we decided to treat ourselves and have one of our heirloom chairs reupholstered? We thought not…It seems that somewhere during our travels we ran across a lovely scrap of velvet just the size needed for our chair. Now this velvet was the lovely shade of a shimmering tiger running through a forest in the golden sunlight… (perhaps the homemade shrimp chow mein that we had for dinner has given us an “overactive imagination” again…we HOPE that those were shitake mushrooms in the cupboard…damn…)
Anyways, arrangements were made and before long our much loved chair was returned to us. At this time we must point out that Kitche used an elaborate language comprised of various bodily functions to portray her displeasures with us. We are still not sure what we did that day to upset her tender sensibilities but within a half an hour of the chair being delivered there was a gigantic projectile vomit stain directly on the seat and dribbling down the front leg. Now the guys at the upholstery cleaners had a good laugh at our expense and assured us that it would be “as good as new”. It seems they DID NOT UNDERSTAND THE SUBTLE NUANCES OF EXPENSIVE VELVET, which after cleaning turned from the lovely color of tawny tiger fur to a flat and lifeless shade of stale graham crackers. We swear after that day Kitche never again gave that chair another look and moved on to bigger and better things that we WILL NOT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE. Needless to say Kitche ran our lives with an iron claw and we miss her more than we can even put into words…
The moral to this story surely DOES NOT EXIST, so please feel free to make up your own, dear readers. (And do tell us of your own animal / interior ordeals…)
Our Beloved Kitche...
I shall never forget you, the best
of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
(“Natassja in Eternal Sleep” by Darkthrone)