It entered the house innocently. Someone put it on a gift as part of the decorative wrapping.
Its evil intent hidden to the unsuspecting household.
It was shiny and red and oh so pretty.
The family liked pretty rather than something intellectual or egad — functional. This is a very shallow family.
The youngest cat Morgan first noticed that all was not as it seemed. She spent an inordinate amount of time smelling it. She suspected that the giver’s cat had peed on it.
She rubbed it with her nose and that’s when the attack started.
The humans (or the staff as the pets preferred to call them) heard the menacing whine of a disturbed cat stalking evil. There were streaks of grey movement with a blur of red. The ribbon arched up and attacked the cat.
Up the stairs. Down the stairs. Through the kitchen. Into the family room. The ribbon was tenacious, gripping the cat securely.
Many of the battles were in the staff’s bed. (Seriously? They can’t find a more appropriate spot?)
It was the ribbon apocalypse.
No need to worry. Morgan was on it. Even after a triumphant battle, the ribbon would absorb energy within a few days (or hours) to mount another attack.
It’s been 13 months since we’ve been under siege with no end in sight. Please send supplies.
(There is a discussion as to what supplies are necessary. The cats are thinking catnip but the staff is thinking margaritas. We are indeed a shallow household.)
PS: There are people who think that the ribbon is Morgan’s wubby (definition: blanket carried by child to reduce anxiety) but clearly it’s in an attack mode.