I was pondering the state of my existence this week, and I’ve come to a profound conclusion: I do believe that my quality of life leaves much to be desired. In fact, I believe I am being grossly mistreated. I shall explain.
As you know, my dining schedule is completely determined by the Moron who feeds me. Upon my word, this entire universe cannot possibly contain any other such person so unqualified to fill the role of Jellybean’s personal maitre d’ as this particular Moron. She has not once studied the art and science of tending to a Jellybean. Rather, she spends all of her time reading silly books and cavorting with the Hoober Monster, occasionally shoving him into my personal bedchambers! What she gets out of that relationship, I can’t imagine.
On Tuesday, after playing with my jingly balls for an hour or two, I thought I’d peek into one of those books she’s always reading. You will gasp when you hear what I discovered. Not only is the book ridiculous in every aspect (the subjects are magical creatures called Herbits) but get this – these Herbits are fed something called “Second Breakfast” every day. If the Moron knows about Second Breakfast, then why isn’t she feeding it to me?
I had no choice but to take my fate, nay – my destiny – into my own hands. I skimmed a couple paragraphs and discovered that the Herbits occasionally found this Second Breakfast in the woods. I gathered my brothers, we donned our adventuring costumes, and off to Kittybottom Forest we went.
Well, Fluffystuff, we traipsed through the forest and hunted and searched, and all we found were a few horrified lizards and beetles. But I must look at the bright side – don’t I look handsome in my cape with my picnic basket? In typical fashion, Scampers and Sneakers refused to wear their costumes, and Sneakers stuffed himself into a tree hole and couldn’t get out. I think he is still there. Scampers invited Cocobean along, and she painted her nails and fiddled with her makeup the entire time. Cocobean invited Otto and Toto, and who knows what they were up to! At least old Braesnut, my obsequious friend, attempted to help, although I’m not sure he knows how to read a map.