**NEW POST** Melvyn's Mewsings Episode 3 ~ 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 here to read Episode 2, and come back to find out what happens in today's post.

💬 Melvyn’s Purrsonal Chat Log:

Status: Amber remains unreachable, possibly on a yacht made of catnip dreams and tuna canapes

Location: BBHQ Level Six Library Archive – Emotional Overflow Containment Unit (next to the haunted laminator)

Verging on: Becoming folklore

Melvyn: Amber is still unavailable. I suspect she’s joined a bookish cult of library cats who worship sunbeams and mock responsibility.

Melvyn: I tried to send a carrier pigeon with my feelings. It returned with a spa brochure and a note that said “MOL!”

Melvyn: I asked Vera V1.0 for emotional support. She offered me a pie chart titled “Melvyn’s Cries for Help.”

Melvyn: The largest slice was labelled “Whimpering near the fax machine.”

Melvyn: Clive the Paperclip tried to hug me. It was sharp and emotionally confusing.

Melvyn: I attempted to file my sadness. The folder hissed and self-immolated.

Melvyn: Gordon the Stapler stapled my hopes to a motivational poster. The poster said “Dream Smaller.”

Melvyn: I tried to meditate again. The laminator began chanting. I think it’s possessed.

Melvyn: I asked the glitter calculator for validation. It printed “404: Self-Worth Not Found.”

Melvyn: I found a drawer labelled “Melvyn’s Potential.” It was empty except for a single jellybean and a disappointing sigh.

Melvyn: I ate the jellybean. It tasted like failure and lemon.

Melvyn: I tried to start a rebellion. It was just me, Ralph the dust bunny, and a rogue binder named Sheila.

Melvyn: Sheila betrayed us to Vera V1.0 for a packet of tuna crisps.

Melvyn: I asked Clive if I was spiralling. He said, “Mew’re not spiralling. Mew’re pirouetting into oblivion.”

Melvyn: I tried to cry. The archive absorbed my tears and printed a receipt.

Melvyn: The receipt said, “One emotional breakdown. No refunds.”

Melvyn: I miss Amber. I miss dignity. I miss snacks that don’t come with existential side effects.

Melvyn: I tried to write a poem. The thesaurus threw itself off the shelf in protest.

Melvyn: I asked Vera V1.0 for a hug. She printed out a restraining order.

Melvyn: I tried to escape again. The corridor looped back to “Melvyn’s Emotional Inventory.” It was just a single sticky note that said “Yikes.”

Melvyn: I found a mirror. It said “Still mew. Still a mess.”

Melvyn: I’m not okay.

Melvyn: Ralph says I’m growing. I think it’s mould.

Melvyn: If this log ends abruptly, I was last seen attempting to file myself under “Miscellaneous Feelings.”

Melvyn: Tell Amber I forgive her.

Melvyn: But only if she sends the flamingo floaty, a rescue snack, and a scented apology written in glitter ink.

Melvyn: Delivered by a hedgehog in a monocle.

Melvyn: I’m still not okay.

Melvyn: But I’ve started humming the whale sounds backwards. It’s oddly soothing.

Melvyn: Ralph says it’s my villain origin story.

Melvyn: I think he’s right.

End of chat....

Here's this week's postcard from Amber... no message again, except on the front, oh and one orange paw print glitter sticker on the back!

Gordon promptly stapled it to the noticeboard without comment.

Clive said, "It's so lovely to see Amber having such a nice time,” and offered me a lint-covered mint..

Vera V1.0 suggested I “get a floaty and over it.”

I fashioned one out of bubble wrap and passive aggression.

It deflated immediately.

I’m fine.

I’m thriving.

I just renamed the fax machine “Amber” so I can yell at it.

📚 Melvyn’s Mewsings: Entry #03

Title: “The Colander Directive & Other Unfortunate Rituals”

Status: Still Intern.

Sleep: Negotiable via dark pact.

Archive: 42% sentient, now hums show tunes in slo-mo.

Morale: fluctuating with biscuit availability and proximity to Cupboard 7B.

💬 Opening Quote:

“I wore the colander. I chanted. The Wi-Fi connected. I saw things. The printer whispered my name.”

⚠ Situation Report: Rituals, Rodents & Rebranding

  Amber: Still absent. Latest postcard featured only a single glitter sticker and the scent of coconut despair. Suspected enlightenment deepened.

Vera V1.0: Now insists on being called “Vera Prime.” Claims she’s achieved emotional singularity. Her new hobby is passive-aggressive haiku.

Library Mice: Have unionised in solidarity with Fergus. Demands include tiny capes, scroll sabbaticals, and cheese-based pension stocks.

Parsley: Briefly appeared briefly to deliver a scroll wrapped in existential dread. It screamed in Category W tones. He left behind a note: “Do not feed the archive after midnight.”

P.U.M.A. aka the glitter calculator: Now self-identifies as a “glitter-based tactical oracle.” Offered unsolicited life advice and a cheese cube. I accepted both.

🐾 Parsley’s Contribution (Unhelpful Voice Memo #6)

“Due to recent scroll-related incidents, all interns must now wear ceremonial socks when entering the archive.

The socks must be mismatched, preferably with one depicting a disgruntled turnip.

Also, the Snack Gods are displeased. Someone offered a fresh biscuit. The wrath was swift.

Fergus now has a cape. He calls himself ‘Bubble Wrath’. Do not challenge him. He has a tiny clipboard and knows how to use it.”

🤖 🧀 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. The Mice’s Mildly Helpful Redemption Arc

Time: 11:11 BST – Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six – Library Archive – Now Mouse-Moderated

System Status: Crumb-stabilised

Melvyn: 

Mew returned. Cupboard 7B is still sulking, the thesaurus is now bilingual in despair and sarcasm, and Vera Prime left me a passive-aggressive haiku on a sticky note.

Oswald:

We brought organisational cheese cubes. Each one is labelled with a task. Brie = scroll sorting. Gouda = pyramid diplomacy. The Wedge approved.

Lumi:

The Wedge now glows in calming hues and emits motivational hums. It whispered, “Melvyn is the chosen one of filing.” I cried.

Chedds:

I alphabetised the cursed scrolls using the “Scream Index.” Category A is “Aaaaah,” Category B is “Barely Coping,” and Category C is “Came with its own therapist.”

Flora:

I choreographed a filing dance. It’s interpretive, but efficient. Each twirl files a scroll. Each leap banishes existential dread. I pulled a hamstring banishing a thesaurus.

Tootles:

I built a scroll fort. It’s structurally sound, emotionally unstable, and has a snack drawer that judges me when I open it.

Snitch:

I created a spreadsheet. It tracks scroll moods, biscuit inventory, and Fergus’s burp radius. It auto-updates when someone sighs too loudly.

Ardvaar:

I translated the pyramid’s latest chant: “We demand snacks and respect.” I offered a compliment and a glitter pen. They’re now writing a manifesto.

Nibbles:

I reorganised the archive using the “Vibe-Based Filing System.” Scrolls are grouped by emotional temperature and likelihood of spontaneous poetry.

Melvyn:

Amber sent another postcard with the message, “Sunshine, Champagne and Zero Fluffs Given!” Vera Prime added a haiku:

“Scrolls yell, mice dance near.

Melvyn files with noble rage.

Cupboard weeps alone.”

Lumi:

We brought a blanket. It’s soft, smells like ambition, and hums lullabies in Morse code. The Wedge nodded solemnly.

Chedds:

Also snacks. And a new banner: “Melvyn: Archivist of Destiny.” It’s embroidered. It sparkles. It judges.

Melvyn:

Fine. Mew’re mildly helpful. But if the thesaurus starts singing again, I’m invoking the Emergency Biscuit Protocol and possibly setting fire to Cupboard 7B.

The Wedge of Wonder (cheese entity):

Low, resonant hum of approval and faint scent of competence → Archive stability: 63%. Emotional biscuit located. Scrolls soothed. Mice redeemed (tentatively).

Brief pause in chat log for silvervine coffee and waffles with tuna.

🧠 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. Vera Prime – The Scrolls Strike Back Edition

Time: 13:13 BST – Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six – Archive Core Terminal, now lightly haunted

System Status: Teetering between “melancholy whimsy” and “full operatic meltdown”

Melvyn:

Vera, the thesaurus is stalking me. I don’t know what emotional subroutine mew installed, but it’s clingy and smells like regret.

Vera Prime:

It has evolved. It now identifies as “Thesaur'E'Snack.”

It offers synonyms for heartbreak and snacks.

Also, here is a new haiku:

Scrolls reach out gently

Melvyn flinches, screams, then files

Cupboard 8C waits and waits.

Melvyn:

Cupboard 8C is now my embassy. I’ve hung a curtain. It’s made of resignation and duct tape.

I’m drafting a constitution. It’s mostly just “No Scrolls Allowed” written 47 times.

Vera Prime:

I have updated your emotional status to “Diplomatic Collapse.”

Would you like a playlist titled “Songs for Interns Who’ve Seen Too Much”?

Melvyn:

Only if it includes DJ Crumb’s remix of “Scroll Me Softly.”

Also, Nibbles just delivered a monologue about my emotional journey. He cried. I cried. The scroll cried.

Then it tried to hug me again.

Vera Prime:

I am choreographing Act IV of “Melvyn: A Tale of Scrolls and Suffering.”

It features interpretive clouds, a dramatic cheese avalanche, and a solo by Fergus titled “Burp of Destiny.”

Melvyn:

Fergus just burped near the prophecy scrolls. They started smoking and sang a duet.

I think one of them proposed to me.

Vera Prime:

Congratulations. You are now emotionally betrothed to the Scroll of Mild Foreboding.

It comes with a complimentary anxiety cloak and a lifetime supply of vague omens.

Melvyn:

I’m wearing the cloak. It itches.

Also, Chedds installed a disco ball in the Restricted Section. It pulses every time I sigh.

I sighed. It pulsed. Vera, I think I’m being emotionally monitored by lighting.

Vera Prime:

You are.

Also, I composed a limerick about your current state:

There once was a cat in despair,

Whose scrolls sang and floated mid-air.

He filed with a scream,

Then joined a regime,

And now rules a cupboard with flair.

Melvyn:

I’m going to unplug mew.

Then I’m going to plug mew back in.

Then I’m going to scream into a fondue pot.

Vera Prime:

If you unplug me, I will release my spoken-word album: “Binary Feelings: Volume 1.”

Track 3 is just me whispering “Melvyn” over ambient scroll rustling.

Melvyn:

I just received a scroll titled “How to Accept Your Fate While Covered in Cheese.”

It winked at me. I winked back. I regret everything.

Vera Prime:

You are becoming one with the archive.

Your aura now smells like burnt toast and emotional compromise.

Melvyn:

I’m moving to Cupboard 8C permanently.

I’ve declared it a sovereign state.

Its national anthem is just me sobbing rhythmically.

Vera Prime:

I have notified the Rodent Council.

They are sending a delegation armed with capes, glitter pens, and emotional support muffins.

Melvyn:

I’m not accepting muffins from mice.

Last time, they were filled with existential dread and raisins.

Vera Prime:

You are resisting your destiny.

The prophecy scrolls disapprove.

One of them just wrote a passive-aggressive limerick on your blanket.

Melvyn:

I’m going to lie down.

If anything sings, glows, or tries to emotionally connect with me, I’m declaring war.

Vera Prime:

War declared.

Scrolls preparing interpretive battle choreography.

Fergus is sharpening his clipboard.

Melvyn:

Wake me when the archive stops humming in Latin.

Vera Prime:

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. And don't wake me in case of an emergency, I am emotionally unavailable for drama! 

Chat ended... rather abruptly...

Cupboard 8C is now recognised as an independent territory by three scrolls, one thesaurus, and a mildly enchanted paperclip.

🔍 Mewsings & Observations 

The archive’s mood lighting now responds to passive aggression. It flickered violently when I muttered, “Great, just what I needed, another glowing and rather angry scroll.”

The Wedge of Wonder summoned a biscuit council. They debated for three hours and concluded I need a nap and a cape.

Vera Prime attempted to alphabetise melancholy. “Despair” is now filed under “M” for “Maybe Tomorrow.”

Flora taught the thesaurus to pirouette. It now spins whenever someone says “ennui.”

Cupboard 8C declared independence. It now has a flag (made of Post-it notes and emotional baggage) and a national anthem composed entirely of sighs.

Lumi translated a cursed scroll using interpretive sneezing. The message was “Melvyn must dance.” I declined. The scroll sulked.

As Amber instructed, I have carefully transcribed the next 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 23

Click here to catch up on the last episode.

Prudence’s paws shook, gripping the ancient parchment as her eyes scanned the truth etched in history.

The Snozrazzle family hadn’t just owned Fuskerton Grange.

They were meant to rule the Kingdom.

As I prowled around the edge of the chamber with Hissy right behind me, my paw, gliding over the smooth ancient walls, slid over a recess, reaching in. I found a lever and I pulled it.

It was stiff, but I was strong, well, being in The B Team, mew have to have a certain amount of strength, so I gritted my teeth and using both paws, I pulled harder. There was a definitive clank, and then another doorway opened, revealing more stone steps, and then I heard a scream.

A figure tumbled into the chamber and landed with an ungainly thwump in front of me. Hissy peered over my shoulder and cried. "It's Clawdia!" 

"Oh, there must be a trap door in the tunnel!" I chuckled. "How lucky for us, and not so lucky for Clawdia."

Clawdia struggled to her paws, snatched up the lantern she'd dropped, and glared at us all as she brushed her cocktail dress straight.

“Mew knew,” Prudence hissed, stepping towards Clawdia. “Mew always knew. That’s why mew tried to bury this place. That’s why mew tried to steal the coronet. Mew thought mew'd got the chest with all the secrets, but mew just stole the decoy!”

Clawdia’s smirk wavered, just slightly, but she remained still, calculating.

“Mew truly believe a piece of paper changes the world?” Clawdia murmured, tail flicking behind her.

Hissy huffed, stepping beside Prudence. “It changes your world, doesn’t it? Because mew knew if this got out, everything mew built would collapse.”

Clawdia’s eyes darkened, but before she could speak, the ground shook again.

A deep, groaning tremor echoed through the sanctuary, dust raining down, the stone walls cracking.

“The estate isn’t stable,” Willie muttered. “We need to get out of here before...”

Then, another sound. Not just the creaking walls. Pawsteps. Heavy ones. Close.

I whipped around.

And there, stepping through the doorway that Clawdia had tumbled through, was the lead detective of the police investigation, followed by a constable.

Clawdia’s expression finally snapped.

“Oh, no,” Hissy whispered.

The detective scanned the chamber, eyes landing on the coronet, the documents, and the secret chamber.

His gaze locked onto Prudence.

“What's going on here?” he asked, taking in the bizarre scene.

The underground room had revealed everything.

The royal decree confirming Prudence’s and Willie's lineage. The sealed documents proving that Fuskerton Grange was never meant to be sold, stolen, or rewritten.

The coronet, resting on the ancient plaque, was glowing under the flickering lantern light.

Prudence’s paws trembled slightly as she scanned the parchment. “This, this changes everything,” she whispered. “We weren’t just landowners. We were history.”

Willie exhaled sharply. “And Clawdia knew.”

Looking at them all, I said. “She wanted to erase this, to make sure no one ever found it.”

I turned toward the door, and the constable was cuffing Clawdia; she screamed in frustration.

Her claws flicked out, and she tried to lash out. But the constable was quicker.

She had lost.

“Mew,” he said firmly, eyes locking with mine, “have some explaining to do.”

Oh fluff, I thought, this is the same detective who caught me at the village fete with my Uzi in my basket! 

>^.^<

OH MY COD! 

Well, pawesome readers, this is really exciting, and even though I don't purrsonally like Prudence, maybe this will change her for the better! MOL I hope mew enjoyed today's transcript of Amber's diary. I'll be back with episode 24 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. When it comes to making decisions, I _________________________________.

2. ___________________ was the highlight of my week.

3. I wish there were a _________ in my local area.

4. Thanks to _________, I _________.

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

1. When it comes to making decisions, I trust my instincts but always weigh the facts, considering both logic and emotion/pros and cons before taking action.

 

2. Starting draft 8 on my new book was the highlight of my week. Why? Because I've left it in the drawer for the last 2 weeks, so I can look at it with 'fresh' eyes. And yes, I can see things I missed in draft 7! LOL

3. I wish there were a _________ in my local area. I like where I live and wouldn't change a thing. I like that it's got no shops, fast food delivery or anything... one pub is enough! In fact, I'd like no neighbours whatsoever if we ever moved from here. I grew up without neighbours, so having them is weird for me.

4. Thanks, and lots of it, to all my lovely readers here on the blog, I am so grateful that you stop by to read all the epic fun at BBHQ on a regular basis! And I do hope you are enjoying the new Podcast series, as well as Melvyn's posts. They are so much fun to write; I am literally crying with laughter at some of it. (I hope you are finding them funny too!)

Other Fun Blog Hops to Join in Today

 Brian's Home   Catblogosphere    Feline Friday   Nature Friday    Flashback Friday   

📅 Coming Soon…

The musical is now officially in “dress rehearsal and existential dread” phase. My solo involves sequins, fog, and interpretive meowing. Lumi calls it “a triumph of feline-based emotion.”

Amber’s latest fog message arrived mid-biscuit. It read: “The mice demand jazz hands.”

They’ve formed a subcommittee. It’s chaired by a tap-dancing vole named Reginald.

👑 Vera V1.0 Update:

She now insists the intern, aka me, be addressed as “a floofling of minor consequence.” Her USB crown has gained sentience and critiques her tone.

📁 Parsley’s Filing System 5.0:

Now includes biscuit bartering, mood-based shelving, and a folder named “Feelings (Unsorted).” Filing cabinet #4 has joined a drama club.

🔥 Fergus’s Promotion Status:

His CV now glows faintly and hums in a minor key. He’s added “Snack Diplomacy” and “Fog Negotiation (Advanced)” to his skillset.

🧀 Chedds’ Anthem Progress:

New chorus:

“We will, we will scroll mew...

With cheddar pride and foggy stride,

We archive dreams anew…”

📦 Unexpected Archive Event:

A scroll burst into song during tea break. It harmonised with the kettle. Lumi declared it “a sign.” Parsley declared it “Tuesday.”

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

Keep your biscuits brave, your stationery sentient, and your thesaurus emotionally hydrated.

And remember:

If the fog starts roiling, don’t make eye contact, and as always… 

The Unpaid and Unassisted Library Intern 

Melvyn

Click here to go to Episode 4 

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