Showing posts with label hot chocolate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hot chocolate. Show all posts

Saturday, March 13, 2010

That Ther Eevnin Gets Mor Innerestin!


Mom Says:

With the steam from their Not-Exactly-Hot-Chocolate drinks rising to their sensitive feline noses, Zora and Octavian sipped and chatted.

“O! Octaviannn! I feel so ligt-heddeed. I theenk I weel need som ayrr.”

“Wull, we kin tayk a walk, see yer pertee cittee at nigt. Izn’t Paris sposta be the cittee of ligts? I hasn’t seen them yet, cuz I onlee get out durin the dae.”

“Qwa? Yu meenz yu has not seen ze Palace de la Concorrrde? C’est amposeebla! We mus’ feex zat immédiatement! Ah, but I am a leetl fooll from deenayrr. I kin not walk all thee wae, an mai chauffeur is not due bak for a whil…”

“Kin we tayk the Metro? I has not seen that either.”

“Ah, le Métro! Qu'une idée magnifique!”

The waiter returned with an unobtrusive little tray on which lay a small bill and an even smaller inkpad. Zora patted her paw on the pad and then on the bill. With his other hand, the waiter wiped the excess ink off her paw. “Merci, Mademoiselle, Monsieur. Appréciez-vous votre soir.”

Then Zora and Agent Octavian leaped down from their seats and trotted side-by-side out the unobtrusive and very expensive front door.

Monday, March 8, 2010

An Eevnin to Rememembrer


Musashi Sez:

Mai dinnr wift Zora went grayt! I wuz debonayr an intrestin (jus lik yu’d egspect), an the nomz wer out of this werld!!!

Mom Says:

As the lights dimmed and the Catnip Royale flowed, the two felines exchanged les bons mots even while doing the delicate dance of industrial espionage (or just espionage espionage), feeling out where the other cat stood and how much he/she knew, was willing to tell about the international catnip trade: the power plays, the important deals, the preferred fertilizer, the possibilities of additives, pesticides, grafting et les autres choses…

After they had finished their fancy noms, Zora murmured and the red-vested waiter appeared.

“Ah, Mam’zelle, would you care for the hot chocolate menu? Tonight we have Pear Belle-Hélène style hot chocolate, hot chocolate flavoured with pink berries, and hot chocolate perfumed with fleur d’herbe à chats.”

“Octaviann?”

“Er, I’ll pass, merci. My vet stronglee recommend agenst the choclit.” He was proud of himself for rememembering that fact, especially as he was feeling extraordinarily blissful, almost as if he wanted to rub his face on the table cloth or climb the curtains like a gazelle, or a panther, or whatever wild thing it was that customarily climbed curtains out in the Sahara or the veldt or Hollywood.

But the waiter said, “Oh, pardonnez-moi, Monsieur. I thought you knew. Our feline hot chocolate menu is made strictly with carob. It has none of the dangers your physician was concerned about, I assure you.”

“O! Well, then… Whut do yu sugjest, Zora? We had my choys fer dinnr, so we shud hav yer choys fer dezzert!”

“So kind. I weel hav, zen, ze Pear Belle- Hélène, and mon ami heer weel hav l'herbe à chats.”

“Very well.”

He took their plates and left them. Octavian said, “Zora, tell me, how com yu started yer biznis aneewae? Why doggee toyz? In ‘Merika, dogs an cats don’t alwaes get along so gud.”

“Ah well, racial relationz in les Etats-Unis are somewhat, how shall I say, straynd? Ze hoomanz hav zis problemme in la France as well. Mais, nous les chats et les chiens se sont entendu historiquement tout à fait bien, avec l'exception des Guerres Napoléoniennes, parce que Napoléon, il était une personne de chien, vous savez.”

“Um…Akshul, I dozn’t savez, Zora. Yu has gon beyond mai Frentch. Yu sez we cats and dogs did somthin?”

“Oh! A souzand pardonnes, Octaviannn! Ze catneep iz goeeng to mai hed! Yes, we hav historically gotten along quite well, weeth the exception of the Napoleonic Wars, because Napoleon, he was a dog personne, yu noe.”

“Reellee? I had no ideer!”

“Well, we chats don’t lik to talk about eet, an ze doggeez arrr verrree unnerstandeeng theez daez. We trai to focus on our, what yu sae, commonaliteez.”

The waiter returned with their drinks in china saucers. “Do be careful,” he said. “They will be a bit hot at first. Enjoy.”

They sniffed at the steaming saucers cautiously but with appreciation. Octavian felt free-er and more confident than ever before.