Update to my AITA post
Since many of you requested continued documentation regarding the decline of my household, I regret to inform you the situation has escalated significantly in the last 24 hours.
No dead mice have been discovered in the house recently. They’re welcome. I guess.
Unfortunately, since apparently my thoughtfully prepared mouse charcuterie was “traumatizing,” I attempted a different approach this morning and shared my dinner directly onto the floor next to Dad’s side of the bed at approximately 2:30 AM.
Still unappreciative.
Honestly, I don’t know what these people want from me anymore. First they complain about visible organs in the kitchen, then they complain when breakfast is pre-softened and conveniently served bedside. The mixed messaging is exhausting.
Mom also continues to spiral emotionally. Last night she spent THIRTY MINUTES trying to convince me it was “time for bed” because apparently her sleeping schedule now revolves around whether I am indoors, outdoors, under the bed, behind the couch, or “plotting something.”
She kept patting the bed going “come snuggle with mommy” while I stared at her from six feet away like the teenage spare human does when asked to unload the dishwasher.
Eventually I allowed her to carry me to bed just so she would stop talking.
Then at around 3 AM I heard a loud THUMP followed by sprinting across the roof. Naturally, I assumed Christmas had come early and Santa was arriving with a sleigh full of Churu for someone important (me).
So I jumped directly onto Mom’s head, sprinted down Dad’s back, lost my balance halfway through, and had to continue the escape by using his kidneys as stepping stones with claws fully engaged.
Nope.
It was just that asshole void brother of mine conducting what appeared to be a one-cat track meet across the roof while chasing God knows what (probably his last brain cell). Somehow the idiot ended up on top of the giant traveling metal box the grown-up spare humans park in the driveway.
Mom immediately started panic-yelling like he was stranded on Mount Everest (I wish). Dad was outside in his underwear with a flashlight. The neighbors probably think we run a haunted petting zoo.
Unfortunately, the void somehow managed to haul his oversized fuzzy ass down the side of the trailer and land perfectly on his feet like the laws of physics personally protect idiots.
And here I was really starting to believe I might finally become an only child.
At this time I am now accepting applications for emotionally stable households. Homes with voids, frequent mental breakdowns, or unreasonable food limitations will not be considered.
According to my legal team (the finches), I need to start keeping my options open. Mom will be issued my official 30-day notice once a superior staff replacement can be secured for His Highness (me).