It is upon us.
The Season of Buzz.
The time when tiny, flappy, winged demons rise from the depths of who-knows-where and dare to trespass upon my kingdom — the living room ceiling.
Tonight, one such villain arrived.
It hovered. It taunted.
It did mosquito things — buzzed near Mom’s ear, did a loop-de-loop, and smirked.
Mom, brave but tragically under-skilled, grabbed a magazine.
She swatted.
She missed.
She yelled, “Ugh, where is it now?!”
It laughed. I swear it laughed.
And then —
I rose.
One elegant stretch. A slow blink. A calculated flick of the tail.
Then, with the grace of a ninja ballerina trained by ancient masters, I LEAPT into the air… paws first… claws ready…
SMACK.
The beast was no more.
I landed silently on the arm of the sofa.
Mom stared at me.
Wide-eyed. Amazed.
And whispered:
“You… murder princess.”
YES.
FINALLY. SOME. RESPECT.
I purred, modestly.
Spurka started a slow clap. Kitka rolled her eyes and muttered something about "dramatic flair."
Let the record show: I saved humanity.
She owes me snacks.
Deadly and dignified,
Gryzka – Slayer of Buzz,
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