**NEW POST** Melvyn's Mewsings Episode 6 ~ Life in The BBHQ Library ~ One Shelf at a Time! **PLUS** Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop + Pet Photo Fails 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, here to read Episode 2, and here to read Episode 3, here for Episode 4, and here for Episode 5, then come back to find out what happens in today's post.

💬 Melvyn’s Purrsonal Chat Log – Episode 6

Status: Intern. Archivist. Emotional sponge. Possibly a fog cannon.

Location: BBHQ Level Six - Main Desk, now laminated for safety and dramatic effect.

Mood: Hovering between “jam tart fallout” and “existential biscuit diplomacy.”

Melvyn 08:03 – Cupboard 8C issued a declaration of independence. I saluted. Crunch the biscuit tried to enforce border control. He crumbled. I swept him into a metaphor and moved on.

Melvyn 09:17 – Vera Prime sent me a muffin via Fudge. It was shaped like a spiral and tasted like unresolved tension. Her USB crown blinked “Proceed with caution.” I did not proceed.

Melvyn 10:22 – Clive rearranged the pamphlets into a vortex. I followed it. Ended up in the broom cupboard with a prophecy stuck to my tail. It said “Mew’re trying.” I blinked. It blinked back.

Melvyn 11:46 – Gordon stapled my emotional report to a velvet curtain. It now rustles when someone says “growth.” I asked if that was symbolic. He stapled it again.

Melvyn 12:31 – Amber’s latest postcard arrived. No message. Just glitter. I took it personally. The fog cannon activated. Lumi called it “a cleansing.” I called it “a damp betrayal.”

Melvyn 13:04 – I opened a drawer labelled “Maybe.” It contained dust, biscuit crumbs, and a sticky note that said “Try interpretive mime.” I mimed. The drawer hissed.

Melvyn 13:47 – Fergus’s clipboard now hums in Catiform. The archive pulses when he enters. I asked if I was pulsing. Vera said, “Only with uncertainty.”

Melvyn 14:12 – Chedds gave me a cheese wedge shaped like a flamingo. I stared at it. The fog applauded. Nibbles grinned. I gave him a laminated pamphlet that said “HOW TO RESPECT BOUNDARIES!” in Comic Sans.

Melvyn 14:55 – I tried colour therapy. The app turned beige and sighed. I felt judged.

Melvyn 15:07 – The disco ball in the Restricted Section flashed “ABANDON HOPE” in Morse code. I blinked twice. It blinked back. Then it played smooth jazz.

Melvyn 15:21 – I hosted another book talk.

Vera brought “How to Compromise (Without Losing Yourself Completely)” - she gave me ten copies.

Ralph brought “Dust: A Necessity in The World” - it had dirt-smudged pages, which were deeply judgmental.

Lumi brought “Glitter Cannon Fundamentals” - annotated in shimmering ink.

I brought “The Waffle Ultimatum” - it oozed jam when I opened it.

Melvyn 15:59 – I tried again to manifest joy. The archive manifested half a cup of tepid of water and a sticky note that said, “Enjoy!”

Melvyn 16:33 – I asked the thesaurus for a synonym for “joy.” It offered “fallacy” and a side of brittle sardine crackers. I declined.

Melvyn 17:00 – I hung a collage made of sticky notes with positive affirmations and glitter washi tape on the notice board. 

Melvyn 17:42 – I journaled: “I am in a sea of hopelessness surrounded by sarcasm.” The scrolls applauded. I cried into a cheese puff labelled “Resilience.”

Melvyn 18:00 – I’m taking a catnap beneath the new desk with a weighted blanket that smells like bergamot and offers a slight hug. Wake me only if the archive achieves sentience or the dictionary of despair leaves.

Melvyn 18:55 – Parsley’s filing cabinet #4 has unionised. It now demands a dressing room, a motivational poster, and a fog cannon of its own. It chose “Staple Your Truth” in holographic foil. I nodded. It hissed.

 

Melvyn 19:19 – I tried to submit my emotional report via interpretive dance. Vera Prime responded with a single sticky note: “No.” It was scented with lemon and disdain.

Melvyn 20:52 – The archive played a whale sound, then whispered, “Try snacks.” I did. The biscuit judged me. I judged it back. We reached a mutual understanding. It crumbled.

End of chat...

Here's this week's postcard from Amber... with the obligatory orange glitter paw print on the back... no message, just glitter!

Postcard Debrief

Gordon clicked twice, once for drama, once for disbelief, then stapled Amber’s latest postcard to the notice board with a flourish that felt like a challenge. It joined the growing gallery of vacation dispatches now labelled “Unresolved Feelings (Ongoing).”

Clive said, “Well, that’s bold,” and handed me a biscuit shaped like a camel. It was very dry. It was also inexplicably scented with oud. I accepted it as a metaphor.

Vera Prime blinked slowly, then faxed me a single word: “Untouchable.” I asked, “Is that about Amber?” She replied, “No. It’s about your emotional distance.” Her USB crown dimmed in Morse code: “Try again.”

I attempted a response via interpretive shrug. The archive triggered the motivational gong. It rang once, then whispered, “Don’t bother.”

Again, I nodded, with nothing to add. The camel biscuit crumbled in my paw like my last illusion of relevance.

The archive hummed softly, then played a desert wind sound effect. I took it as encouragement. Or sarcasm. Possibly both.

📚 Melvyn’s Mewsings: Entry #06

Title: “The Biscuit Ultimatum & Other Emotional Treaties”

Status: Still Intern. Now also “Minister of Mild Panic,” “Custodian of Crumbs,” and “Fog Cannon Liaison (Provisional).”

Sleep: Replaced with ambient dread and a recurring dream about being outperformed by a thesaurus.

Archive: 76% sentient. Now emits motivational fog when I hesitate.

Morale: Currently laminated. Gordon stapled it to a motivational muffin. The muffin wept.

💬 Opening Quote:

“Amber rode a camel past the pyramids and declared herself more epic than history. I filed that under ‘Unhelpful.’ The drawer locked itself.

⚠️ Situation Report: Scroll Diplomacy, Muffin Symbolism & Camel-Based Envy

Amber: Her latest postcard featured her atop a camel, captioned: “THE PYRAMIDS ARE NEARLY AS EPIC AS ME... BUT NOT QUITE!” The archive printed it on edible paper. I ate half. It tasted like smugness and pomegranate.

Vera Prime: Has begun issuing performance reviews via baked goods. Mine was a muffin shaped like a spiral. It was undercooked. Her USB crown blinked “Hmm” in Morse code. I took it personally.

Gordon: Keeps clicking when I walk by. He calls it “interactive feedback.”

Clive the Paperclip: Declared himself “Archivist Emeritus” and built a motivational fort out of index cards. It collapsed. He blamed humidity and my aura.

Reginald: Is nesting in the microfiche drawer. Claims it’s “a creative retreat.” He’s also stolen my flamingo floaty requisition form and used it as insulation.

Fergus:  His clipboard plays ambient windchime sounds in 528 hertz when morale dips. 

P.U.M.A.: The glitter calculator is offline pending an HR meeting.

🐾 Parsley’s Contribution (Unhelpful Memo #9)

“All interns must now submit weekly emotional metrics using one of the following formats:

A biscuit-based collage titled ‘Hope: Crushed but Decorative’

  Interpretive fog cannon choreography

A sonnet about your envy of Amber’s camel

Due to recent motivational muffin incidents, the archive has entered a theatrical phase. It now responds to queries with dramatic lighting, ambient sighs, and occasional glitter eruptions.

Filing cabinet #4 has unionised. It demands:

A dressing room

A motivational poster (chosen: ‘Staple Your Truth’)

A fog cannon with mood settings

Failure to comply will result in a strongly worded sticky note and a mandatory seminar titled ‘Feelings: Why We Don’t Alphabetise Them.’

Proceed with caution. And snacks.”

🤖🧀 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. The Biscuit Ultimatum

Time: 14:14 BST - Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six - Library Archive - Filing Chamber of Mild Regret, now “Fog-Certified” by a mouse in sequins

System Status: Biscuit-enhanced. Vibe: crunchy with undertones of panic.

Melvyn:

Cupboard 8C has declared itself a sovereign emotional territory. Entry now requires a cheese offering, a dramatic sigh, and a kazoo solo. Crunch the biscuit is Head of Border Security. He crumbled. I stepped over him respectfully and saluted.

Oswald:

Cheese-Based Task Allocation 5.0 now includes:

Camembert = Emotional buffering

Red Leicester = Scroll interrogation

Wensleydale = Passive-aggressive diplomacy

The Wedge blinked once, then burped. We took that as a positive sign.

Lumi:

The Wedge now glows in “existential beige” and hums in fits and starts. It whispered, “Melvyn is the chosen one of mild competence.” I sobbed into a cheese puff labelled “Why?”

Chedds:

I’ve expanded the Scream Index. New Category G: “Existential Yelp with Jazz Paws.”

Also, cursed scrolls now demand snacks and compliments. I threw a biscuit shaped like a pyramid. It growled.

Flora:

I choreographed a new filing dance called “The Collapse of Optimism.” It involves interpretive lunges and a cape made entirely of rejected sticky notes. I made a video and posted it to Mouse-Tube, it's had 250,000 views and I made £4.50. SO WORTH IT!

Tootles:

Scroll Fort 5.0 now includes a moat of lukewarm ambition and a snack drawer that audibly sighs when opened. It judged me in ancient Greek. I smiled. It snarled. I ran.

Snitch:

Spreadsheet now includes:

Melvyn’s mutterings - how many per day

Muffin variability and moistness

Fergus’s clipboard jingle rating

It auto-updates when someone mumbles, “Why me?” or “Is this laminated?”

Ardvaar:

The pyramid now requires a cheese-based constitution and a theme song. I offered a kazoo solo titled “Oh So Pointy.” The pyramid glowed and requested a remix.

Nibbles:

I’ve implemented “Vibe-Based Filing System 4.0.” Scrolls are now sorted by emotional wattage, snack compatibility, and likelihood of spontaneous interpretive outbursts by archive staff.

Melvyn:

Amber sent another postcard. It read: “THE PYRAMIDS ARE NEARLY AS EPIC AS ME... BUT NOT QUITE!” 

Lumi:

The new blanket is in a bad place. It's folding itself into origami despair.

Chedds:

I made a new banner: “Melvyn: Archivist of Mild Triumph.” It’s glitter paint on canvas and occasionally twinkles when someone sighs near it. The fog applauded. 

Melvyn:

If the thesaurus starts rapping again, I’m invoking the Treaty of Nope and launching Cupboard 8C into the sun. I’ve already packed snacks for the journey.

The Wedge of Wonder (cheese entity):

Low hum of cautious optimism. Archive stability: 74%. Expressive biscuits guaranteed. Scrolls somewhat subdued. Mice promoted to “Agents of Archival Codification & Critical Snack Strategy.” Crunch is on leave.

Brief pause in chat log for tuna steak with halloumi fries and catnip dip. 

🧠 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. Vera Prime – The Camel Clause & Filing Breakdown

Time: 15:47 BST – Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six – Archival Desk of Mild Panic, now sand-resistant and emotionally buffered

System Status: Hovering between “Epicness Fatigue” and “Staple Me Gently”

Melvyn:

Amber’s latest postcard features her on a camel, in front of the pyramids, declaring: “THE PYRAMIDS ARE NEARLY AS EPIC AS ME... BUT NOT QUITE!”

I tried to file it under “Delusions of Grandeur.” The drawer locked itself and whispered, “Not today, Melvyn.”

Vera Prime:

Your diplomatic title has been updated to “Archivist of Emotional Overcompensation.”

Also, here is a haiku:

Camel rides with flair
Melvyn sighs into the fog
Scrolls blink in Morse code

Melvyn:

By the way. What does W.M.W.H.B.G.M.N. mean?

Vera Prime: 

Sighs audibly... Wish mew were here but glad mew're not...

Melvyn: 

Ahhhh... 

Vera Prime: 

Anything else mew don't understand?

Melvyn:

The thesaurus attempted re-entry disguised as a travel influencer. It offered synonyms for “epic” and a cheese pairing. I launched it into the moat. The moat applauded. Then sneezed glitter.

Vera Prime:

Thesaur’E’Snack now offers emotional synonyms with snack pairings.

Today’s combo: “Resentment” with a side of aged cheddar and a motivational cracker.

Melvyn:

Oswald delivered a scroll titled “How to Lead While Being Ignored by Everyone Except the Filing Cabinet.” It smelled like initiative and temperate misery. I used it to line the moat. The scroll thanked me.

Vera Prime:

Fergus has composed a new anthem for Cupboard 8C.

It’s performed entirely on a fog-reactive tambourine and interpretive sighs.

He calls it “Symphony of the Emotionally Misfiled.”

Melvyn:

Chedds installed a third fog machine. It activates when I experience “existential envy.” It triggered 42 times today. The scrolls now refer to me as “The Damp One.” I’m emotionally moist.

Vera Prime:

You are evolving.

Your aura now emits notes of bergamot hysteria and laminated regret.

Also, I’ve choreographed Act VII of “Melvyn: A Filing Odyssey.”

It features a kazoo solo, a biscuit tribunal, and a pamphlet ballet.

Melvyn:

Amber’s camel has a better résumé than me.

Also, the disco ball in the Restricted Section now flashes “WHY” in Morse code. I blinked. It blinked back. Then it played ambient jazz and judged me.

Vera Prime:

You are being emotionally audited by lighting.

Also, I’ve composed a limerick about your current state:

There once was a cat in decline

Whose scrolls filed themselves just fine

He built a small moat

Then tried to emote

But mostly just sighed while pretending to be a mime

Melvyn:

I’m installing curtains made of emotional boundaries and glitter washi tape.

If anything pings, shimmers, or offers me a muffin, I’m invoking the Treaty of Nope again and annexing Cupboard 9D.

Vera Prime:

Treaty ratified.

Scrolls preparing glitter-based reparations with a side of catnip discretion.

Fergus is curating a gallery of motivational lint in Aisle 33J. It’s… abstract.

Melvyn:

I asked the archive for a pep talk. It gave me a confetti shower and a pamphlet titled “Coping Through Interpretive Filing.” I tried to read it. The fog cannon misfired and launched a jam tart onto my emotional audit chart. Mew called it “symbolic.”

Vera Prime:

You are now eligible for a biscuit-based sabbatical.

Please select from the following options:

Crumb Retreat (includes fog therapy)

The Filing Spa (now with motivational steam)

The Emotional Snack Dome (no exit, just snacks)

Melvyn:

None, thank mew. Wake me only if the archive achieves sentience, or starts a countdown.

Otherwise, I’m buffering beneath a blanket that smells like lemon panic and offers unsolicited hugs.

Vera Prime:

Understood.

I will compose a lullaby titled “Rest, Ye Weighted Blanket Archivist.”

It will feature whispering sighs, moonlight tinkles, and the distant rustle of scrolls learning boundaries.

Chat ended... again... with a dramatic curtain flourish.

Cupboard 8C now recognised by seven scrolls, one thesaurus, two fog machines, a glitter cannon, and Crunch the biscuit (on sabbatical). Password for entry: “Mew’re trying.”

🔍 Mewsings & Observations

  Crunch the biscuit attempted a comeback. He was promoted to “Head of Emotional Infrastructure,” then immediately crumbled into a motivational pile. The scrolls held a vigil. It was catered.

  Vera choreographed a treaty ratification ceremony using interpretive muffins and a fog cannon solo. One muffin exploded. It was declared symbolic.

  Shelf 7F hummed the Mission Impossible theme, then whispered, “Don’t.” It’s now on strike.

  Filing cabinet #4 demanded a motivational spotlight and a fog cannon with glitter mode. It now hisses in Latin and refuses to open unless serenaded.

The archive declared a sentient fog entity, now named “Kevin.” Is in charge of HR. Kevin is not open to feedback.

Exta Archival Occurrences - #1

During my expedition along aisle 99c in the Metaphysical section on my quest to find out, why? Yes, the question is WHY, and after finding this last week, I thought it might help: 

📖 “Manifest Anything Mew Want in Five Minutes or Less”

By Prof. Vortex Whimbleton, D.M.S.

(Dubious Mystic Sciences)

About the Author:

Prof. Vortex Whimbleton is a self-declared visionary, biscuit clairvoyant, and part-time fog consultant. He holds an honorary degree in Manifestology from the University of Unverified Credentials and once claimed to manifest a Pull-it-Zer Prize using only interpretive dance and a motivational journal without one single word written.

He is banned from three well-known archives (Edinburgh, York and London), a highly popular chain of book stores, and is on the blacklist of several universities for “excessive sparkle, unsolicited affirmations, and emotionally disruptive fog rituals” that were deemed offensive to students, who are now seeking mental health support from the necessary channels.

His previous works include:

  “The Power Within: Unlocking Your Inner Magi Soul”

  “Fog Is Just Feelings in Gas Form”

“Mew Already Have Everything (Except Mew DON'T)”

“The Existential Oracle of T.W.A.T*: Plumbs of Destiny”  (*T.W.A.T aka The Wayward Activists’ Tribunal)

Covert intel: Prof. Whimbleton currently resides in a velvet tent pitched next to the Church Hall on Main Street, Fuskerton, marked “Delusion (High Risk)” and he's currently offering weekly workshops titled “Manifesting Through Mime and Mild Panic” for a bargain price of £2.00 per half hour. Obviously, his writing career didn't manifest much!

>^.^<

💫 HOLOGRAM ACTIVATION: PROF. VORTEX WHIMBLETON, D.M.S.

(Dubious Mystic Sciences, Biscuit Mystic, and Unlicensed Life Coach)

Prof. Whimbleton (materialising in a swirl of glitter and questionable confidence):

Ah! Mew’ve opened the sacred tome of self-delusion. Welcome, seeker of floaties and emotional clarity. I am Prof. Vortex Whimbleton, and mew, dear Melvyn, are a walking metaphor in need of a rewrite.

Melvyn (startled, clutching his kazoo):

I... I didn’t mean to summon anything. I was just browsing. The book glittered at me.

Prof. Whimbleton:

Books don’t glitter without purpose. Mew’ve triggered a Level 3 Manifestation Protocol. That means mew’re either ready for transformation… or a snack. Possibly both.

Melvyn:

I’m just trying to survive the archive. Amber’s gone. Vera Prime is faxing me performance reviews in interpretive semaphore. Gordon stapled my emotional report to a curtain. I cried. The scroll cried. Gordon sighed.

Prof. Whimbleton:

Classic symptoms of existential misalignment. Tell me, have mew tried visualising your destiny through interpretive fog choreography?

Melvyn:

I danced. The thesaurus called it “a tragic misuse of limbs.” Filing cabinet #4 hissed.

Prof. Whimbleton:

Excellent. Mew’re halfway to enlightenment. Now, let’s diagnose your blockage.

Mew seek validation from sentient furniture. Mew fear rejection from a stapler. And mew’ve placed your emotional well-being in the hands of a glitter calculator named P.U.M.A.

Melvyn:

It prints affirmations on edible paper. Today’s said, “Mew are not broken. Mew are just inconvenient.”

Prof. Whimbleton:

Ah, brutal truth wrapped in snackable wisdom. But here’s where mew’re going wrong, Melvyn:

Mew’re trying to file your soul under “Reference.”

Mew need to reclassify it under “Unapologetic Wonder.”

Melvyn (quietly):

I don’t even know what that means.

Prof. Whimbleton:

No one does. That’s why it works. Now, take this...

(He hands Melvyn a holographic sticker that reads “Shelf Your Doubts” in glitter font.)

Stick it to your floaty requisition form. Manifestation begins with mildly delusional confidence.

Melvyn:

Will Amber come back?

Prof. Whimbleton:

Eventually. But until then, mew must become your own fog cannon.

Now go, kazoo your truth. File your feelings. And never let a drawer define your destiny.

(The hologram flickers, winks, and Prof. Whimbleton vanishes in a puff of motivational glitter.)

🐾 BBHQ SECRET CHAT LOG #2 - “OPERATION: MELVYN IS STILL MELVYN”

🔐 Encrypted via BBHQ Level 1 protocol

📍 Recorded from a rooftop café in Cairo. Background noise includes distant camel sighs and ambient pyramid judgment.

🟣 Amber (dictating into a glitter-encrusted recorder):

“Update. I remain radiant. Cairo continues to worship me quietly. I’ve just received Melvyn’s latest emotional audit; it was stapled to a scroll and smelled like bergamot panic. I skimmed it. It blinked. I blinked back. I won.”

🟤 Oswald (annotating):

He’s started referring to himself as ‘The Damp One.’ We’re unsure if it’s metaphorical or just fog-related. Either way, morale is… laminated.

🟣 Amber:

“Tell Vera Prime her semaphore is sloppy. I decoded her last message, and it just said ‘meh’ in six languages. Unacceptable.”

🟢 Flora (annotating):

Vera responded by shutting down and faxing a single word: “Whatever.” It smelled like lavender and disdain.

🟣 Amber:

“Also, someone please confiscate Fergus’s clipboard. It played Ave Maria when Melvyn entered the archive. That’s not ambience. That’s sabotage.”

🔵 Lumi (annotating):

The clipboard now glows when anyone sighs. It triggered twice during snack inventory. Nibbles fainted.

🟣 Amber:

“Reginald is nesting again, isn’t he? Tell him the microfiche drawer is a filing graveyard. Respect the genre.” Tell him, there's a large wooden trunk on Aisle 9B, and it's really cosy.

🟠 Ardvaar (annotating):

Reginald has installed curtains and a motivational banner that reads: ‘Crumb But Not Broken.’ He’s also claimed diplomatic immunity.

🟤 Chedds (annotating):

Melvyn journaled: “I am now 87% fog, 12% biscuit residue, and 1% hope.” I left him a cheese wedge shaped like a question mark. He tried to file it under ‘Unresolved.’ The drawer laughed.

🟣 Amber:

“Phase 9 is now active: Reclassification by Mood Ring. If Melvyn starts quoting stuff  randomly, initiate Phase 10: Snack-Based Ascension.”

🟡 Snitch (annotating):

He’s already halfway there. Today, he whispered, “Hope is just a misfiled biscuit.” The archive applauded. Then sneezed confetti.

🟣 Amber:

“Send him a Post-it note that says ‘Mew’re still here. That’s something.’ In Comic Sans. And add a cute glitter sticker, he really likes those!”

🟣 Amber (final note):

“Also, I will not be returning until the archive stops humming Eye of the Tiger every time I walk through the vestibule. I’m not a motivational poster. I’m a lifestyle.”

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

1. I define success by ________________________.

2. _____________________was an awkward moment.

3. I learned to _________ when I was _________ years old.

4. I can only _________ so much _________ before I _________.

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

1. I define success by whatever makes you happy. If you're happy doing something, YAY SUCCESS!!! 

2. My pony stopping at a jump, me flying over his head and landing on the jump was an awkward moment. I was about 11 years old at show; it hurt, but I never let go of his reins!

3. I learned to ride a pony when I was 4 years old. Yep, the good old days of fearlessness!!! That's the best age to learn anything.

4. I can only write so much on the blog before I need a break!  Yep, posts like this take fluffing ages. I need multiple breaks, snacks, and motivational quotes, oh, and a glitter sticker would be nice! LOL 

Other Fun Blog Hops to Join in Today

 Brian's Home   Catblogosphere    Feline Friday   Nature Friday    Flashback Friday   

📅 Coming Soon… Episode 07: “The Emotional Filing Tribunal”

The fog has unionised. The scrolls are staging a sit-in. Melvyn’s emotional bandwidth is now measured in biscuit crumbs and sighs per minute. Cupboard 9D has declared itself a neutral zone and installed mood lighting.

🎭 Musical Update:

Rehearsals collapsed when Fergus’s clipboard began humming Ave Maria mid-fog cannon warm-up. Vera Prime called it “haunting.” The mice called it “a Monday.”

Clive attempted a kazoo solo. The archive triggered lockdown protocol. Reginald applauded.

🎤 Solo Revision:

My velvet cape now shimmers in response to passive-aggression. The interpretive meows have evolved into a spoken-word fog lament. Vera Prime blinked in Morse code: “Unclear but committed.”

📁 Parsley’s Filing System 7.3:

Now includes:

Tabs that emit affirmations when touched

  A drawer labelled “Feelings We Pretend to Understand”

Emotional encryption powered by biscuit resonance

A fog-reactive filing wand that plays motivational sea shanties

🔥 Fergus’s Promotion Status:

His résumé now includes “Scroll Whispering,” “Deep Fog Diplomacy,” and “Elevensies Negotiations.” The archive whispers "Welcome" when he enters.  

🧀 Chedds’ Anthem Update:

Final chorus revision:

🎶 “Raise your crumbs to the biscuit sky,

Where cheddar dreams refuse to die,

And fog rolls in with silent flair,

To file your hopes with tender care…”

The mice attempted a harmony. Nibbles fainted. Again. I fanned him with a laminated pamphlet titled “Mew’re Still Here.”

📦 Unexpected Archive Event:

A rogue thesaurus began freestyle rapping in the break room. 

Parsley filed a formal complaint. Tootles offered it a cheese cube. The thesaurus blinked, accepted, and rebranded as Thesaur’E’Snack: Exceptional Edition.

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

Keep your fog swirling, your biscuits emotionally encrypted, and your thesaurus clamped for interpretive safety.

And remember:

If the filing cabinets start humming motivational sea shanties, don’t panic, just mime your feelings, and archive with flair

and as always… 

The Unpaid and Unassisted Library Intern 

Melvyn

Click here to go to Episode 7 ... link coming later 

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