Conform, conform, conform

Why can't you be a good little lemming and just behave like everybody else? Why must you think you are so-o-o-o-o different? I don't ask for much. Why can't you just do what is expected of you?

You and all your little friends make me crazy. You sleep in late, eat any food you can find without too much effort and then immediately plan your afternoon nap. Then you stay up all night doing who knows what. The most energy you put out is in getting into a more comfortable horizontal position. Your idea of exercise is staring out the window and seeing how long you can go without blinking. It is you and everyone else as similarly lounge-oriented that give your kind a bad name.

You want to be different? Well, I've got news for you: this time being different has gotten you into trouble. This is my house and I make the rules including the only one you've ever been asked to follow. You are going to stick to this singular rule or you are going to pay the price.

From now on there will be no more thinking outside the box, you grungy furball. You will not follow your dreams and squat where they lead. You will make your used food deposits in a litterbox. You've got four (4!) to choose from, for scoop's sake. Variation from this rule in the name of 'creativity' will not be tolerated. When the spirit moves you, you get your tuckus in some sand and drop the movement there. Am I making myself clear? There will be no more Jackson Pollock-ing on the rug. Stop checking the kitchen floor for level by seeing if piddle will puddle. And for the last time: you do not have to add your 'special ingredient' to the clothes in the hamper.

Now you get in that sunspot and you start purring. I do not want to tell you twice. And don't forget to purr.