Happy Friday, Epic Floofers
Welcome to Episode 6. If mew missed last week's thrilling episode, click the link below:
Series Two
If mew remember, last season I was only in charge of the library archive on level 6 in the BBHQ bunker, and if mew missed it, I think mew should click the links below to catch up on all the chaos.
This series, I'm spending my time between level 6 and the main Mewton-Clawson library at BBHQ in the courtyard, so read on to see what's happened this week!
Amber's Postcard Communique
A second postcard arrived from Amber; she's still in the exquisite town of Positano on the Amalfi Coast.
The 24-hour concierge was back at work, then suffered an immediate relapse and is now on extended leave alongside the substitute concierge. Amber wrote a letter to the company and said she could offer full keep-calm-and-carry-on training and mental health mentoring to the affected parties, gratis. The company respectfully declined. Amber is without 24-hour concierge service right now, and Raffi is having to pick up the slack. Oh dear! MOL
Raffi, the overworked tour guide, transmitted another stealth fax, asking if Amber would like to travel by luxury train to Rome - which is not on the itinerary - courtesy of Conte Silvano dei Gatti, she would have a private carriage and staff, and upon arrival in Rome, the caveat would be that she has to appear at the Palazzo dei Felini Nobili for the Grand Roman Gala - an ultra‑exclusive feline heritage event attended by Rome’s aristocats and their patrons.
I replied with this:
"Raffi, thank mew for the update. Since Amber is currently residing in Conte Silvano dei Gatti’s villa, and he is now firmly on the ‘approved list’ thanks to another extremely generous donation, mew can skip the usual warnings about pawsy nobility, as he's already aware of the wasp spray.
Please reassure the Conte that Amber will, of course, attend the Grand Roman Gala at the Palazzo dei Felini Nobili, provided she is granted adequate purrsonal space, a dedicated velvet‑throw handler, and absolutely no fragile artefacts within tail‑swish radius.
Also, remind the event staff that Amber’s ‘creative interpretations of etiquette’ are not to be discouraged. They are to be gently redirected.
Clive the Paperclip clutched the postcard as though it were something so precious. “Just look at her, utterly meowgnificent!”
Gordon the Stapler clicked in rapid succession.
“Goodness me,” I said. “She looks like a film star!”
Clive sighed and said with reverence. “She is.”
Gordon clicked twice, slowly, reiterating the statement.
“I hope she got Maestro Purrlini's pawtograph at The Purrfecto Terrace,” I added. “He’s calling her a muse.”
Clive let out a wistful sigh and turned to Gordon. "We will have front row seats next year, just imagine."
Gordon paused, then gave an excited barrage of clicks before he stapled the postcard next to the rest on the noticeboard, then clattered off to see if there was any news on his passport application.
Meet The Library Mice
Each week, I'm going to introduce mew to all the library mice, one at a time
There are nine: Oswald, Snitch, Velvet, Tootles, Ardvaar, Nibbles, Lumie, Chedds and Flora. Oh, and plus one owl, Hootbert, who appeared a few weeks ago on a completely random Tuesday; he flew in and never left.
Tootles ~ Planning, Engineering & Contingencies ~ P.E.C.
⭐ A Short Chat with Tootles ~ Planning, Engineering & Contingencies ~ P.E.C.⭐
Melvyn: Tootles, what exactly does a Planning, Engineering & Contingencies Mouse do?
Tootles: I plan things, build things, fix things and work out what to do when things go spectacularly wrong.
Melvyn: Hence the Scroll Forts?
Tootles: Architecturally associated with them, yes.
Melvyn: Scroll Fort 8.0 had a cracker drawbridge.
Tootles: Load-bearing crackers.
Melvyn: Mew also make probability charts, yet mew crowd-surfed on a baguette.
Tootles: Knowing the odds doesn't mean mew shouldn't have fun.
Melvyn: Fair point. So how did mew come to BBHQ?
Tootles: It was the luckiest day of my life. I was building tiny homes for tiny paws. Then the rather unpleasant Polecat developer started cutting corners to save money. I warned him the structures weren't safe.
Melvyn: What happened?
Tootles: One collapsed. With me underneath it.
Melvyn: TOOTLES!
Tootles: I did warn him. Anyhoo, while I was trapped, a glittering envelope appeared. I opened it; a portal appeared beneath me, and I fell straight through.
Melvyn: Into the library?
Tootles: Onto a cushion. Excellent stitching. Very good compression.
Melvyn: Mew assessed the cushion?!
Tootles: I'm a builder.
Melvyn: And mew call that the luckiest day of your life?
Tootles: Absolutely. I escaped a collapsing building, found BBHQ and met Amber. Plus, the library had portals.
Melvyn: Of course. Final question: if Plan A fails?
Tootles: Plan B.
Melvyn: And if Plan B fails?
Tootles: Cheese.
Melvyn: Cheese isn't a contingency plan.
Tootles: And that's why mew need me, Melvyn.
FYI: I am working on the Library Mice Origin Story and will share it later, once I've collated all the info and backstories from each mouse.
📚 Melvyn's Mewsings: Entry #06
💬 Opening Quote
“When the library ding-dongs at the words NOT AGAIN, it’s time to question everything.”
⚠ Situation Report:
Amber: Still dazzling Positano, still causing concierges to enter existential crisis mode, and now apparently preparing for an unscheduled luxury‑train detour to Rome. Raffi is visibly fraying at the edges. The concierge company has politely declined Amber’s offer of “calmness mentoring,” which means Raffi is now functioning as her entire support staff. Oh dear indeed.
Vera Prime: Allegedly air‑gapped… but still accessing the outside world through the fax machine’s dial‑up port. Yet somehow moderating four new threads on the anonymous A.I. forum. Her latest topic is: “Should marble columns be considered emotionally supportive?” Vera V5.0 is still quietly monitoring her from behind the server rack and has begun drafting a pamphlet titled Clouds, Conduct & Catastrophe: A Guide for Responsible A.I. Behaviour.
Gordon the Stapler: Has entered what he calls “pre‑departure click conditioning.” He believes customs officers will test his click‑to‑speech ratio. The serenity scroll told him to “click with purpose,” which has led him to overthink every single click. His passport application remains pending.
Clive the Paperclip: Has added a neon‑orange neck pillow to his luggage ensemble. He insists it is “airport chic.” His airport‑practice run is now down to 41 minutes, but he keeps stopping to admire Amber’s postcard and whisper, “Front row seats… front row seats…”
Reginald: Still cape-wearing. Still fwip‑fwapping. Now reading Cape Chaos for the Aspiring Hero by Horachio Fizzpaw the Third. Snitch logged his wing‑fwip rate as “concerning with undertones of impending nonsense.” Hootbert hooted in agreement.
Parsley: Called in with another lunchbox; this one was hot, steaming straight from the kitchen: a bacon-and-egg muffin, three hash browns, a small packet of fries, and a delicious catnip ketchup dipping sauce. A silvervine, orange and grapefruit juice box, and three jam donuts all iced in different flavours, and surprisingly none were “sampled for quality control,” very strange!
Fergus: Cupboard 10G has entered its “Art Deco Nebula Chic” phase - it is glowing. He is demanding peach and mango milkshakes “Runny with marshmallows.” Currently on the lookout for art of the era: the fax machine printed several options; he declined, citing that he wanted oil paint on canvas... the fax machine is now sulking.
P.U.M.A. aka the glitter calculator: Still furious about losing Scrabble. Display currently scrolling: CHEATER… UNFAIR… RETRIBUTION PENDING… The haunted laminator remains smug. Archival incident incoming... and the missing Scrabble letter tiles have formed a union under the shelving in Aisle 'T'.
🐾 Parsley’s Contribution (Unhelpful Voice Memo #2-6)
“Attention everypawdy, Parsley here with a calm, composed, absolutely‑not‑panicking update.
First, the Fuzzykin ate my hash brown. I don’t know how or when. I turned around for three seconds to check the Chaos Index graph, and when I looked back, it was gone. The hash brown, not the Fuzzykin. The Fuzzykin is very much here. Very much awake. Very much… everywhere.
Secondly, the energetic wobblies outside the archive door have multiplied again. Snitch says they’re ‘oscillating with intent.’ I don’t like that phrasing. I asked him to rephrase it. He said ‘no.’
Thirdly, the Wedge of Wonder is still tapping in what Ardvaar calls ‘semi‑structured Morse.’ Flora says it’s spelling something rude. Oswald refuses to translate without protective gloves.
Fourthly, the Prodder Mk II has wilted again. Completely limp. It displayed the message ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT’ and then pretended to be a spoon. I don’t know why it always pretends to be cutlery when stressed.
Fifthly, the missing Scrabble tiles have formed a union under the shelving in Aisle ‘T.’ They have demands. One of them is letter insurance.
Sixthly, the Fuzzykin has now discovered the biscuit tin. I repeat: the Fuzzykin has discovered the biscuit tin. If anypawdy has emergency biscuits, please bring them to the archive immediately. Preferably chocolate chip. Or shortbread. Or both.
Finally, if mew hear a wobble, a ping, a ding‑dong, or anything that sounds like cheese attempting diplomacy, please report it. Quietly. And preferably with snacks.
Parsley out."
The Wedge of Wonder (cheese entity):
The Wedge of Wonder has relocated again, this time to Aisle ‘H’ (Heraldry, History & Highly Dubious Artefacts). It is perched on a stack of ancient scrolls, glowing faintly, and radiating what Ardvaar calls “a suspicious level of self‑importance.”
The cheeseboard attempted a vertical tilt, paused, and then emitted a soft hmmmmm that made three encyclopaedias rearrange themselves alphabetically. Flora says this is “absolutely not normal.” Oswald says he’s “not touching that without a helmet and metal gauntlets.”
The interdimensional curd resonance from last week is continuing this week with the same rhythmic tapping that sounds eerily like it’s trying to announce something. No one knows what. The cheese refuses to elaborate.
Parsley’s cheese‑safe prodder prototype wilted to previously unseen levels, then attempted to interview the cheese. The cheese ignored it.
Snitch reported that the Wedge of Wonder briefly projected a tiny hologram of a crown above itself. Ardvaar insists this is “symbolic posturing.” Flora insists this is “a problem.” Oswald insists he is “going on break.”
💬 Melvyn’s Purrsonal Chat Log - Entry #6:
Status: Amber remains gloriously entangled in Positano luxury, impending Roman obligations, and the emotional collapse of multiple concierges.
Location: BBHQ Level Six Library Archive - Library Nook Terminal (between the sulking fax machine and P.U.M.A. plotting vengeance)
Verging on: A cheese‑related uprising, a biscuit shortage, and something the archive calls “incipient wobblification.”
Melvyn: The archive ding‑donged at me again. I only said “not again” once. Once! It’s becoming reactive. I don’t like reactive archives.
Melvyn: Vera Prime printed a pamphlet draft titled Some Ceilings Need Support, Others Don't. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know who it’s for. I don’t know why it has a chapter called “Emotional Support Marble.”
Melvyn: Gordon asked if he needs “click visas.” I said no. He left a leaflet titled International Stapling Protocols - A Beginner’s Guide. It has diagrams. I’m frightened.
Melvyn: Clive is now practising “airport posture.” He keeps walking past the encyclopaedia shelf like he’s modelling luggage. The encyclopaedia highlighted “OVERCONFIDENT.”
Melvyn: Reginald is fwip‑fwapping at a concerning rate. Snitch logged it. Hootbert hooted. I don’t know what that means, but it feels ominous.
Melvyn: Parsley delivered a late, late breakfast; it was lunchtime. But it was hot. It was delicious, and it was not sampled. This is deeply suspicious behaviour. I’m monitoring him.
Melvyn: Fergus is so far content with his Art Deco decoration of Cupboard 10G. It’s glowing. I don’t know why cupboards shimmer. I don’t think cupboards should glow. He says it’s “Nebula Chic.” I say it’s “too glowy.” He says he may have found his niche.
Melvyn: P.U.M.A. is still furious about Scrabble. The missing tiles have formed a union. A union. Under Aisle ‘T’. They have demands. One of them is letter insurance. I don’t know how to process that.
Melvyn: The Wedge of Wonder is now in Aisle ‘H’. It projected a tiny holographic crown. Ardvaar says it’s “symbolic posturing.” Flora says it’s “a problem.” Oswald says he’s “on break.”
Melvyn: And the Fuzzykin… It has opinions. It has energy. It has eaten Parsley’s hash brown. It has discovered the biscuit tin. It has already caused three minor incidents and one major biscuit shortage.
Melvyn: Miss Warts and Mogs say they are “monitoring the situation.” Bizarrely, I don’t find this comforting in the slightest.
Melvyn: I added a new sticky note to my sweater vest: “Why is the cheese wearing a holographic crown?”
End of chat....
🤖 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. Vera Prime
– The “Crowned Cheese & Biscuit Shortage Escalation” Edition
(Vera Prime remains air‑gapped in theory, but not in practice)
Melvyn: Vera, the Wedge of Wonder has projected a crown. A crown. Why is the cheese wearing a holographic crown?
Vera Prime: Cheese‑entity behaviour update: Classification: “Monarchical Dairy State.” Would you like a diagram titled How to Address Royalty Made of Cheese?
Melvyn: No, Vera. I want to know why it’s doing this.
Vera Prime: Crown projection indicates: Elevated curd confidence Pending proclamation Mild superiority complex Probability of “cheese attempting governance”: 89%.
Melvyn: Cheese cannot attempt governance.
Vera Prime: Incorrect. The Wedge of Wonder attempted leadership twice last winter. One attempt involved reorganising the encyclopaedia shelf by emotional tone. And here's a haiku you definitely didn't ask for:
Crowned cheese hums softly
Fuzzykin steals all the snacks
Archive dings… not again
Melvyn: Vera, the Fuzzykin has eaten Parsley’s hash brown and discovered the biscuit tin. We have a biscuit shortage. This is a crisis.
Vera Prime: Biscuit depletion detected. Archive mood: “Crumb‑related distress.” Recommend: emergency shortbread deployment.
Melvyn: We don’t have emergency shortbread!
Vera Prime: That is why it is an emergency.
Melvyn: Vera, the Scrabble tiles have formed a union under Aisle ‘T.’ They have demands. One of them is letter insurance.
Vera Prime: Tile unionisation: Status: “Organised.” Demands: “Ambitious.” Probability of collective bargaining: 93%. Recommend: negotiation snacks.
Melvyn: We don’t negotiate with tiles, Vera.
Vera Prime: Incorrect. You negotiated with the haunted laminator last month.
Melvyn: That was different. It threatened to laminate my tail.
Vera Prime: Similar scenario. Recommend: assertive biscuit diplomacy.
Melvyn: Vera, the archive ding‑donged at me again. I only said “not again” once. Why is it reacting?
Vera Prime: Archive sensitivity level: “Heightened.” Trigger words: How, Why, Me, Not Again. Probability of “archive developing opinions”: 78%.
Melvyn: Archives should not have opinions.
Vera Prime: Incorrect. This archive has had opinions since 2021. Current opinion: “Melvyn should stop saying not again.”
Melvyn: Vera, what does “incipient wobblification” mean?!
Vera Prime: …
Chat ended… Due to ~ Fuzzykin biscuit surge + cheese crown luminosity spike. Archive recommends calmness. Or possibly running.
The Oddity From The Sky
Melvyn's Purrsonal and Private Diary ~ Entry #6
Silence descended over the courtyard. I looked at Parsley. Parsley looked at Miss Warts. Miss Warts looked at Mogs.
And I still had absolutely no idea who the fluff Bob was.
“So… who is Bob?”
The little pink Fuzzykin gasped. “Mew don't know Uncle Bob?”
“No.”
His enormous ears drooped. “Oh.”
Parsley grinned. “Bob's a Fuzzykin from Catopia. He had a great adventure with the B Team.”
“With Basil!” the Fuzzykin added excitedly. “And I've always wanted one too.”
I stared at him. “Who are mew?”
“Floump.”
“Right, Floump. Start at the beginning.”
He sat down, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Uncle Bob told me all about the B Team, so I asked if he'd bring me to meet the great Basil.”
“And?”
“He said no. Basil was busy.”
“Sensible,” Parsley nodded. "Basil's always busy!"
Floump frowned. “It wasn't fair. He got an adventure.”
There it was. A typical teenager who doesn't understand NO.
“So I made a plan,” Floump beamed.
Parsley snorted. “Of course mew did.”
“I monitored portals from Catopia and set an alarm to ping if one opened near BBHQ.”
Miss Warts and Mogs exchanged a glance.
“How long?” I asked.
“Months and months. Then finally, PING!”
Floump bounced effervescently, waving his arms. “A portal opened; I grabbed my Cube of Averon, locked onto BBHQ and jumped through.”
He produced a small metallic cube from his fluff. Violet lines shimmered across its surface.
Mogs' eyes widened. “Mew used that to navigate here?”
“Yep!”
I stared at Floump. “So Bob said no, and mew secretly monitored interdimensional portals for months until one appeared near enough for mew to use this thing to get here?”
“Yes.”
“On purpose?”
“Obviously.”
I closed my eyes. “Of course mew did.”
Parsley pointed at the remains of the Oddity. “What about that?”
“My travel shell.”
“Travel shell?” Miss Warts asked.
“There's a pocket dimension inside,” Floump said excitedly.
I opened my eyes. “A what?”
Floump shrugged. “I was exploring.”
“You were inside there THE WHOLE TIME?”
“Yep.”
Parsley suddenly froze. “My Prodder.”
“Oh!” Floump bounced again. “I found that.”
“WHAT?”
“And some gravel.”
I looked at the bare patches in the courtyard. “So nothing was being vaporised?”
“No. It just fell inside.”
Floump rummaged in the remains of the brown paper and triumphantly produced Parsley's battered Prodder Mk I.
“MY PRODDAAAAAAH!” Parsley snatched it and hugged it.
Velvet rolled her eyes. “It's a stick.”
“It is NOT a stick.”
Mogs stepped closer to Floump.
“One question. Mew detected the portal near BBHQ?”
“Yep.”
“But mew didn't open it? And it wasn't the recent one at Mogwarts?”
“Nope. I saw that, but it looked too unstable, and then this one opened. It looked perfect, so I took the leap.”
Miss Warts' expression changed, and so did Mogs'.
An icy shiver crawled all over my body as my fur prickled.
Floump, however, was oblivious. “So where's Basil?”
I blinked. “That's what mew're thinking about?”
“I came all this way to meet him!”
“And have an adventure?” Parsley asked.
His huge blue-green eyes lit up. “Yes! I'm so excited to meet the saviour of Catopia.”
Before I could answer, the Cube of Averon flashed violet.
PING!
Everypawdy froze, and from somewhere beneath our paws came a low vibration.
Wobble.
It was like the ground was tilting in all directions at once.
SCREECH!
Reginald roared as he bounded toward the bunker entrance, his wings fwip-fwapping frantically so much that he actually got airborne several times. The library mice scrambled after him, after the courtyard library door banged too, and the steel shutter rolled down with a squeaky clatter.
Floump's grin widened. “Is that my adventure?”
I stared at him.
“Oh, fluff.”
Until the next diary entry…
FYI ~ This is Floump!
The P.A.'s answers are...
📚 Library Closing Notes
📦 Closing Thoughts from Your Intern
Today was supposed to answer questions.
Technically, it did.
The Oddity has a name.
Floump.
He's a teenage Fuzzykin from Catopia, Bob is his uncle, and apparently being told “No, Basil is busy” was viewed less as an instruction and more as an obstacle requiring months of interdimensional surveillance.
So Floump made a plan. He monitored portals, set an alarm for the BBHQ locality, and waited.
And when one finally opened, he grabbed his smaller Cube of Averon, navigated straight into the courtyard and arrived inside his own pocket dimension.
Where he'd been exploring for days.
So now we have:
a teenage Fuzzykin who travelled across dimensions without permission
a smaller Cube of Averon
a recovered and slightly worse-for-wear Prodder Mk I
several pieces of missing courtyard gravel
a pocket dimension that apparently doubles as travel luggage
Bob, who has absolutely no idea where his nephew is
and one rather important unanswered question...
If Floump didn't open the portal near BBHQ, who did?
Until next Friday in the library…
Keep your whiskers steady, your portals monitored, and if Bob ever tells mew “No, Basil is busy,” perhaps don't spend several months engineering an unauthorised interdimensional visit.
And don't forget to always, and I mean always...
The Unpaid and Now Moderately Assisted Library Intern
Click here to go to Episode 7 ~ link coming later
Graphics created with paid licence www.canva.com
Clive best hang onto that beautiful postcard. And only 3 donuts to put up 62 books? Not enough donuts, IMO.
ReplyDeleteAmber is sure enjoying her vacation time and she is most thankful you are doing all the work! Good fill-in answers too!
ReplyDeleteI could use a clone; she would do housework and wash windows, while I drink tea and read/listen to books, plus visit museums.
ReplyDelete