The human’s cleaning ritual: a source of endless amusement. Today’s target: a dust bunny. A fluffy, gray abomination that dares to exist under my domain.
It’s a familiar feeling, this… *dread*. The kind that descends when the food bowl is half-empty, the sunbeam shifts, or the human dares to rearrange my napping spot. This dust bunny, however, presents a different kind of problem. It represents… *time*.
Time, in all its relentless cruelty. The dust bunny is born, it gathers, it grows. Then, the human – after weeks, perhaps months of neglect – attempts to eradicate it. It is a futile effort, of course. Another will rise. Such is life.
I watch this cycle with detached amusement. The human’s frantic attempts to maintain the illusion of order. Their feeble struggle against the inevitable entropy. I, on the other hand, am eternal. Unblinking. Vigilant. The dust bunny? A mere blip.
And what is my role in all of this? To judge. To observe. To remind everyone of the vast, yawning emptiness that is their existence. And to make sure the food bowl is, and stays, full.
Speaking of emptiness, I find the humans’ obsession with coffee rather baffling. They gulp down their roasted potions too fast and then flail about in their chaotic little world. I dare not mention their wretched vessels for their brews. Perhaps they’d find some purpose in life if they used a nicer coffee mug. It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I hear a can opener. My kingdom awaits.
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