Eliza, Eliza, do not mess with me
1. As a desperate attempt to keep my straying cat at home, I have roasted a chicken, and draped a warm and comfy Moroccan camel-pubes blanket over the sofa. He’s now reclining in comfort, with a full belly. Italian-lady-next-door, do you only know who you’re dealing with? I shall not lose my moggy to a superior feeder, even if it means I have to sit on the hard floor and eat raw turnips.
2. ‘Do you know how ladies in Florence kept their men at home? She asks. Well, every morning, they’d serve their husband a home-made poison, and every night, they’d give him the antidote; so any straying husband would have a very, very uncomfortable night.’ That’s a line of dialogue from a film I watched last night, people of blogland. The Italian-Lady-next-door – she’s called Eliza- does not know that I have my eye on her. But I’ve got to be careful, it’s what the film said.
3. The doorbell goes at 6.30. I can make out a plump shape behind the glass. It’s her! She’s coming to taunt me, wink at my cat, perhaps! Then they’ll probably leave together, pointing at me and laughing.
As I open the door, I’m a perfect picture of dignity and aloofness.
4. But the Italian-lady-next-door is bearing gifts. Hard, tiny green apples from her tree, and cat food! She’s bringing me cat food! Is it a truce? Is it a trap? But why?
5. ‘You’ve been trying to steal my cat away from me’, I do not say as I thank her profusely and close the door.
I’m confused.
Michel Simon dans un musée du sexe ?
4 years ago
4 comments:
Don't eat the Apples!
She's poisoned them!
You'll turn into a Lezzy Snow White and fall asleep on the Pube Blanket for a week.
It's a trap. It's tinned macaroni masquerading as cat food, designed to drive him all the faster to her cat bowl ... Feed him chicken and cheese. Oh, and at least cook the turnips ....
Perhaps your neighbour reads your blog and is stricken with an attack of conscience, realises that your cat isn't too fond of the food you supply and is giving you a subtle hint as to what brand to buy? Maybe your feline friend presented her with a hacking fur-ball gift and she decided that perhaps she didnt want a cat after all? Perhaps, just perhaps, the apples are just apples?
Possibly,the mysterious ways of neighbours shouldn't be analysed too closely -when I was a child, my apple-cheeked septuagenarian neighbour would "anonymously" leave a bag of sweets and a book at my doorstep every Valentine's day. My equating love with sweets and literature accounted for my unattached, short-sighted a over-weight status for quite some time - but I'm sure that wasn't her intention when leaving me these gifts at the time...
1. You may not be aware of this, but your neighbor, Eliza, is actually the daughter of Dr. Dolittle. Therefore, Eliza will always know how to pet and stroke your pussy better than you do because Eliza learned how to talk to the animals. It was actually Henry Higgins who taught Eliza Doolittle to speak real good English, fancy-like. Or perhaps it was Rex Harrison. He also may be her father. I could be wrong about this last bit.
2. You did not know the above because Eliza has changed her surname to Doolots.
3. Eliza enacts scenes from Pygmalion starring your pussy whenever you’re sleeping or out at the movies.
4. Finally, Eliza sings Lerner and Loewe medleys whilst working her crabapple garden, which your pussy apparently finds irresistible.
5. We’re talking about felines here, right?
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