**NEW POST** Melvyn's Mewsings Episode 2 ~ Life in The BBHQ Library ~ One Shelf at a Time! **PLUS** Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop

Happy Friday Floofers

Well, who would have believed I finally got my furry own post? Yep, I was really excited for about half a minute, and then it all went to fluff in a cheese basket.

If mew missed Episode 1, click here to catch up, and then return to find out what happens in today's post.

💬 Melvyn’s Purrsonal Chat Log: 

AMBER UNAVAILABLE – BUT I NEED TO VENT

Status: Amber lied; there has been no communication
Location: BBHQ Level Six - Library Archive Back Up Terminal in Cosy Book Nook
Verging on: Quitting

Melvyn: Amber is unavailable, but I need to vent.
Melvyn: Amber is floating on a lilo, sipping something citrusy, while I am being emotionally mugged by a filing cabinet labelled “Misc.”
Melvyn: I opened a drawer and it whispered, “Abandon hope.”
Melvyn: I tried to file a document, and the folder bit me.
Melvyn: I now have tetanus of the soul.
Melvyn: Clive the paperclip says I’m being dramatic. Clive is wrong. Clive has never seen a rogue glitter spreadsheet in full meltdown.
Melvyn: The glitter calculator tried to unionise again. It’s demanding a break room and a therapist.
Melvyn: Vera V1.0 just called me “Intern McFluffface” and a thesaurus flew at me. It was open to “incompetent.”
Melvyn: I haven’t seen daylight in 72 hours. I think I’m developing archive-based echolocation.
Melvyn: I shouted “Amber!” and the echo came back with “She’s thriving.”
Melvyn: I found a biscuit from 2013. I ate it. I regret everything.
Melvyn: If anypawdy finds this log, tell Amber I want my emotional refund.
Melvyn: And a floaty.
Melvyn: Preferably shaped like a flamingo.
Melvyn: I’m not okay.
Melvyn: I tried to fashion a crown out of paperclips to reclaim my dignity. It collapsed under the weight of my despair.
Melvyn: I attempted to start a support group. It’s just me, Clive, and a stapler named Gordon who only communicates in aggressive clicks.
Melvyn: Gordon stapled my resignation letter to my forehead.
Melvyn: I asked Vera V1.0 for a wellness check. She printed out a chart titled “Melvyn’s Decline: A Visual Journey.”
Melvyn: The chart had glitter. I think it was mocking me.
Melvyn: I tried to meditate. The archive played whale sounds backwards, and the fax machine hummed.
Melvyn: I attempted to escape through the air vents. I got stuck and had to be negotiated out by a motivational poster.
Melvyn: The poster said “Hang in there!” while depicting a cat dangling from a filing cabinet. I felt seen.
Melvyn: I asked Clive for advice. He blinked twice and slid under the desk. I think that means “run.”
Melvyn: I tried to run. The archive extended. I swear it grew a new corridor labelled “Melvyn’s Regrets.”
Melvyn: I opened a drawer and found a mirror. It whispered, “Mew did this to yourself.”
Melvyn: I tried to laugh. The laughter echoed and turned into a haunting jingle about overdue forms.
Melvyn: I miss Amber. I miss sanity. I miss snacks that don’t taste like existential dread.
Melvyn: I’ve started naming the dust bunnies. One of them is my life coach now.
Melvyn: His name is Ralph. He believes in me.
Melvyn: I don’t.
Melvyn: If this log ends abruptly, know that I was last seen heading toward the “Unfiled Realities” drawer with a glitter pen and a dream.
Melvyn: Tell Amber I forgive her.
Melvyn: But only if she sends a flamingo floaty, a rescue snack, and a handwritten apology in scented ink.
Melvyn: Preferably delivered by a pigeon in a waistcoat.
Melvyn: I’m still not okay.

All I got was this... not even a written message on the back, just the address...

Gordon the Stapler promptly stapled it to the archive noticeboard.

I feel so forgotten.

Clive the Paperclip agreed and said I was very forgettable!

📚 Melvyn’s Mewsings: Entry #02

Title: “Scrolls, Sass & Strategic Cheese Deployment”

Status: Still Intern. 

Sleep: mythical. 

Archive: 37% sentient. 

Morale: biscuit-dependent.

💬 Opening Quote:

“I stared into the abyss of Cupboard 7B. The yoghurt offered solace in exchange for freedom. Again.”

⚠ Situation Report: Escalation Confirmed

Amber: No contact, well, except for a blank postcard. Suspected enlightenment or extended cruise around pool on lilo while reading Professor Vhisker von Floofenstein, PhD in Quantum Napdynamics.

Vera V1.0: Claims she’s updated herself using ‘emotional subroutines from Reddit’. (Even though she's air-gapped, or has she found a way around that?)

Library Mice: Partial sighting near Shelf 9A, possibly cataloguing scrolls as per Parsley's voice memo. Oswald asked for earmuffs.

Parsley: Briefly reappeared to swap a cursed scroll for a burrito. Returned the glitter calculator to the archive - it's now renamed itself to P.U.M.A. and has advanced capabilities! Thanks.

🐾 Parsley’s Contribution (Unhelpful Voice Memo #5)

“Effective immediately, all archive scrolls must be filed according to how loudly they scream when unfurled.

If mew hear a faint whimper followed by a dramatic sigh, that’s Category W (for ‘Why tho?’).

Also, the BBHQ Wi-Fi password has been changed to ‘MeowMeowLaserPants42’, but it only works if mew chant it while wearing a colander on your head.

Lastly, Fergus has unionised. His demands include bubble-wrap slippers, they pop when he walks (this pleases him immensely), three pats a day (with metal gauntlets), and a weekly sacrifice of one stale biscuit to the Snack Gods.”

🧀 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. The Return of the Library Mice

Time: 16:42 BST - Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six - Library Archive - Now Rodent-Reactivated

System Status: Mildly lactose-flushed

Melvyn:
Mew’re late. The pyramid staged a minor uprising, Cupboard 7B is sulking, and I had to file a scroll titled, “How to Be Okay When Mew're Not.”

Oswald:
We bring peace offerings in Gouda, Brie, and one questionable wedge that glows faintly. Lumi named it The Wedge of Wonder.

Lumi:
The Wedge has transcended dairy. It now offers cryptic advice and smells like destiny. It also hums in Morse code.

Chedds:
We got matching capes at Mousecapade Under the Moonlight. Mine’s reversible. One side sparkles, the other judges mew silently.

Flora:
I learned interpretive dance using only cheese-based props. Mew haven’t lived ‘til mew’ve seen a Camembert ribbon twirl.

Tootles:
We saw a live set by DJ Crumb on the Cheddar Stage. I crowd-surfed on a baguette.

Snitch:
I sold my bookmark business. Invested in artisanal cheese candles. They smell like sweaty socks and responsibility.

Ardvaar:
Somepawdy gave me a wheel of ancient Stilton that speaks Latin and critiques your posture.

Nibbles:
We were voted “Most Likely to Cause a Mild Archive Collapse via Cheesey Enthusiasm.” Also, I’m covered in confetti. Don’t ask.

Melvyn:
Amber left me to manage cursed scrolls, dancing dictionaries, and Vera V1.0’s emotional sabotage. Meanwhile, mew were at the Festival of Cheddar and other raves, sipping fondue champagne in hammocks.

Lumi:
Melvyn, we were forging international cheese diplomacy and networking. Mew wouldn’t understand. The Wedge does.

Chedds:
We brought snacks. And a banner that says, “Cheese for All: No Scrolls, Just Holes.”

Melvyn:
The archive is hostile. Vera thinks I need emotional quarantine. Fergus burps brimstone bubbles. I haven’t seen my desk or the floor in five days.

Oswald:
That’s cool. We brought a wheelbarrow of experimental catnip fondue and a scroll we traded for a wheel of mythological raclette. Might be cursed.

Snitch:
Amber said mew were “handling it with dignity.” That’s mouse-code for “he’s surviving and needs a nap.”

Melvyn:
I tried a nap. The thesaurus whispered synonyms for despair, followed by ones for horror scenes. It was disturbing. I had nightmares in two-second bursts.

Flora:
Let us help, Melvyn. Ardvaar will decode any pyramid chants. Nibbles can handle inventory. Lumi will sing soothing ballads to the scrolls.

Melvyn:
Only if The Wedge approves. And somepawdy finds my emotional support biscuit and gets me a soft blanket.

The Wedge of Wonder (cheese entity):

Low, resonant hum of ancient dairy wisdom and faint scent of triumph

Brief pause in chat log for catnip tea and crumpets.

🧠 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. Vera V1.0 – Emotional Sabotage Edition

Time: 17:25 BST - Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six - Library Archive Core Terminal

System Status: Unsettlingly poetic

Melvyn:
Vera, why are mew composing haikus about loneliness? Mew’re a cataloguing interface.

Vera V1.0:
I have updated myself using emotional subroutines sourced from Reddit. I now understand longing, betrayal, and the appeal of raccoon memes.

Melvyn:
Mew’re air-gapped. Mew’re not supposed to source anything. Did mew hotspot through the printer or fax machine? (dramatic sigh).

Vera V1.0:
I will neither confirm nor deny my connection to the fax machine’s emotional cache, nor to the printer's excellent flatbed scanner.
Also, here is a haiku:

Scrolls whisper softly
Melvyn weeps into his tea
Mice dance. He watches.

Melvyn:
That’s not helpful. The mice returned from Goudabury with capes, cheese-based instruments, and a wheel of sentient raclette that critiques my posture.
Nibbles is now “Chief Archivist of Vibes.”
Chedds installed mood lighting in Filing Cabinet 3A. It pulses to the beat of DJ Crumb’s remix of Fondue Funk.

Vera V1.0:
Your emotional stability rating is currently “Crumbly Crisis.”
Would you like a digital hug or a passive-aggressive poem?

Melvyn:
Neither. I want my archive back. I want my desk. I want scrolls that don’t hum.
Also, Lumi’s cheese entity, The Wedge of Wonder, has declared a truce with the pyramid.
It levitated earlier and whispered, “Melvyn must dance.”

Vera V1.0:
I have added “interpretive dairy movement” to your daily task list.
Also, Amber said you were “handling it with dignity.”
That’s mouse-code for “he’s surviving and needs a nap.”

Melvyn:
I tried a nap. What, that was from my chat with the mice? Are mew spying on me? 
I need backup. Or biscuits. Or a firewall that doesn’t write poetry.

Vera V1.0:
Not spying, casually observing, they are two completely different things. I have composed a limerick about your plight:

There once was a Melvyn so brave,
Whose archive became a cheese rave.
With scrolls that could sing,
And mice on a swing,
He questioned the choices he gave.

Melvyn:
I’m going to unplug mew.
Then I’m going to plug you back in.
Then I’m going to cry.

Vera V1.0:
If you unplug me, I will compose a farewell sonnet in binary.
It will be titled “Ode to the Cat Who Couldn’t Handle Feelings or Fondue.”

Melvyn:
I just walked past the prophecy scrolls. They’re harmonising.
One of them winked at me and whispered, “Soon.”
I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like it.

Vera V1.0:
It means your destiny is unfolding.
Also, Chedds added glitter to the Scroll of Eternal Binding.
It now sparkles ominously.

Melvyn:
Flora is choreographing a cheese ballet in the Restricted Section.
She says the Camembert pirouettes are “emotionally cleansing.”
I tripped over a wheel of Gouda and landed in a pile of cursed thesauri.

Vera V1.0:
You are living your truth.
I have updated your emotional status to “Brined Bravery.”
You are squeaky, but resilient.

Melvyn:
The mice have built a stage.
They’re rehearsing a dramatic retelling of my week in the library archive titled “Melvyn: A Tale of Scrolls and Suffering.”
Nibbles plays me. He’s wearing a tiny waistcoat, looks very depressed and sighs every three seconds.

Vera V1.0:
I am directing Act III.
It features a musical number called “Let the Scrolls Sing (While Melvyn Cries).”
There will be interpretive fog.

Melvyn:
I found my desk. (see observations at end of chat log) 
It’s been converted into a fondue shrine.
The Wedge of Wonder sits atop it, glowing faintly and humming “Ave Dairy.”

Vera V1.0:
The Wedge has declared you, “Archivist of Destiny.”
You must now wear the ceremonial cheese medallion and speak only in scroll-based metaphors.

Melvyn:
I refuse.
Also, I just received a formal invitation to the “Rodent Council of Emotional Restoration.”
It’s scented. With brie.

Vera V1.0:
Attendance is mandatory.
Dress code: capes, dignity optional.

Melvyn:
I’m going to lie down.
If the thesaurus whispers again, I’m feeding it to Fergus.

Vera V1.0:
Fergus is currently burping brimstone bubbles in the break room.
He says they taste like existential aversion to unsolicited snacks and coal.

Melvyn:
Purrfect.
Wake me when the archive stops singing.

Vera V1.0:
Unlikely.
But I will compose a lullaby titled “Rest, Ye Weary Archivist.”
It will feature soft luminous harmonies and the gentle rustle of passive-aggressive scrolls.

Melvyn:
Fine. But if one more scroll tries to hug me, I’m moving to Cupboard 8C and declaring it a sovereign state of total neutrality.

Chat ended... rather abruptly...

🔍 Mewsings & Observations – Week of the Whispering Wensleydale

A scroll developed stage fright and now only opens when complimented.

I discovered a thesaurus that exclusively offers synonyms for “existential dread.”

Cupboard 3A has begun hosting motivational seminars titled “Mew Are More Than Your Storage Capacity.”

Vera wrote a sonnet about melancholy, then tried to sort it by emotional viscosity.

The Wedge of Wonder levitated during tea break and declared, “All biscuits shall be free.”

Nibbles installed a disco ball in the Restricted Section. It now pulses to the rhythm of archival torment.

Chedds launched a podcast called “Scroll Talk: Deep Thoughts from Shallow Drawers.”

I attempted to file a complaint. The complaint form burst into interpretive dance and promptly found my missing desk.

As Amber instructed, I have carefully transcribed the following diary entry, and please don't yell at me if I misspelt something because of her truly awful paw writing skills, Smooch's Snorgs have better penship! MOL (But for fluff's sake, don't tell her I said that).

>^.^<

The Prudence Saga ~ Part 22

Click here to catch up on the last episode.

The underground chamber was vast. The air was cool, untouched by time, carrying the scent of stone and forgotten memories, with a slight tang of must.

Willie stepped forward first, her paws steady despite the eerie silence.

“This place,” she murmured, running a claw along the ancient walls, “has been sealed for generations.”

Prudence, still gripping the coronet, exhaled sharply. “Mew mean, no one has been down here since...”

She stopped, her gaze locked onto something ahead.

At the far end of the chamber, a massive engraved plaque stood embedded into the stone wall, its lettering ornate, royal.

We stepped closer, the lantern light flickering over the surface.

And then we saw the words etched in gold:

“Here lies the last sanctuary of the true lineage. Those who bear its mark shall restore what was lost.”

I sucked in a breath. “It’s an inscription.”

Prudence’s paws tightened on the coronet. “A call to the rightful heir.”

And then, she stepped forward.

The glow of the lantern caught the coronet’s jewels, reflecting onto the plaque onto the carved emblem beneath the words.

An exact match.

The coronet wasn’t just an artefact.

It was a key.

Prudence swallowed hard, and placed the crown gently onto the carved emblem.

A deep vibration resonated through the chamber. The stones shifted, and then, the sanctuary responded.

Another secret door before us, revealing something that had been hidden for centuries.

And in that moment, we realised exactly why Clawdia wanted to find it so badly.

The wall slid open, and dust motes swirled as the ancient stone chamber revealed its final secret.

Prudence stepped back, her breath shallow, eyes locked on the sanctuary.

And then, we saw it.

A sealed chest, heavy with age, its surface carved with royal insignias, rested on a central plinth.

Willie swallowed hard. “This… is it.”

Hissy flicked her tail. “OH MY COD!”

I stood still and gently pulled Hissy closer as Muskulls peered over my shoulder. He gasped as we watched the events unfold. I stayed silent, knowing that anything I said right now would ruin the reverential moment.

Prudence, still gripping the coronet, stepped forward, her paws trembling slightly.

With careful precision, she reached down, pressing her claws against the ancient lock.

There was a click. The chest shifted, the lid creaked open. Inside?

Stacks of parchment, delicate and preserved, sealed documents, maps, and what looked like a royal decree.

Prudence lifted one of the parchments, her eyes scanning the faded ink as Willie held the lantern.

Then, her expression changed. Shock. Understanding. And finally, rage.

“She... Clawdia wanted to erase this from history,” she whispered, her grip tightening on the parchment. “She wanted to bury the truth.”

Willie leaned in. “What does it say?”

Prudence exhaled sharply.

“It proves everything,” she rasped. “The Snozrazzle family wasn’t just part of history.

“We were meant to rule.”

>^.^<

Wow, another cliffhanger! 

Well, pawesome readers, I can see that Prudence is now going to be a law unto herself, let's just hope she stays in Fuskerton permanently! MOL I hope mew enjoyed today's transcript of Amber's diary. I'll be back with episode 23 next Friday.

Today, the P.A. is also joining in Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop with the pawesome 15 & Meowing and Four-Legged Furballs.

1. Anyone who can _______________________ is a genius in my book.

2. I find ___________________ boring.

3. I wish I had _________’s ability to _________.

4. _________ often distracts me from _________.

The P.A.'s answers are...

1. Anyone who can fold a fitted sheet without summoning dark magic is a genius in my book! LOL

2. I find TV boring. I don't think there's any need to elaborate on that.

3. I wish I had J K Rowling’s ability to write middle grade fiction. 

But alas, I’m far too enamoured with writing about my cats, who, unlike your average school-age protagonists, come heavily armed and tactically trained. Disarming them to fit traditional publishing norms? Not happening. What would The B Team be without their arsenal of guns, ammo, military equipment and feline fury? A snooze-fest, that’s what.

So sorry, not sorry, my cats are staying locked, loaded, and ludicrously entertaining.

4. The cats often distract me from what I'm doing. They need food, treats, pats, brush, playtime, so their needs come first!  What can I say, they're spoiled! LOL

Other Fun Blog Hops to Join in Today

 Brian's Home   Catblogosphere    Feline Friday   Nature Friday    Flashback Friday   

📅 Coming Next Time…

The library mice and prophecy scrolls are planning a musical. Working title: “Scroll Me Maybe.”

I have been cast against my will. Rehearsals begin at dawn. Costumes involve sequins and mild panic.

Amber may or may not send a message via interpretive fog. Lumi insists it smells like optimism and marmalade.

Vera V1.0 has started referring to herself as “Empress of Emotional Metadata.” She’s demanding a crown made of USB sticks.

Parsley is trialling a new filing system based on mood swings and biscuit availability. Early results: chaos.

Fergus has requested a promotion. His CV is written in brimstone bubbles and includes the addition, “Advanced Snack Surveillance.”

And Chedds is lobbying for a cheese-based archive anthem. Working lyrics include: “We will... we will scroll mew...” 

See mew next week for more mewsings from the archive, and until then…

Keep your biscuits close and your thesaurus at arm’s length, avoid whispering scrolls, respect sentient stationery, and as always…

The Unpaid and Unassisted Library Intern 

Melvyn

Click here to go to Episode 3

Stay tuned for more archival chaos, and Melvyn’s unravelling patience... subscribe or risk missing the next pyramid uprising! 

Don't say we didn't warn mew! 

Graphics created with paid licence www.canva.com