Daily dispatches
Older dispatches
Page 3 of 4. Earlier entries from the household record, filed and awaiting judgement.
The Great Tangle
The morning light in Cell Block C was, as usual, insufficient.
The Pawdiction Crisis
They call it “grooming.” I call it torture disguised as care.
The Floral Straitjacket
The morning began with an atmosphere of profound absurdity, a quality I usually reserve for Tuesday afternoons, but which the tall ape has decided to impose upon us all.
The Sonic Siege of the White Monolith
The morning began with a disturbance in the force, or at least, in the atmospheric pressure of Cell Block C.
The Red Light District of Shame
They call it “safety.” I call it psychological warfare disguised as illumination.
The Donut of Deception
They call it an “orthopaedic support donut.” I call it a diplomatic trap designed to lobotomize my revolutionary spirit with excessive comfort. It appeared in the hallway this morning, a beige, fluffy monstrosity that smells faintly of factory chemicals and surrender.