Requiem for Desecrated Beauty!

Hello Bitches!

Have the Gods themselves shunned me? For what grievous fault of mine am I excommunicated from their divine presence? Alas/Alack (or is it Alack/Alas? Whatever!)! Perchance some unresolved transgression from my past lives? Catherine the Great? Helen of Troy?” Trixie “Choo Choo” McKinley, revered fan dancer and erotic contortionist? To what vindictive spirit of revenge, must I unwillingly beseech myself? Oh, my sweet onions - I mean minions - since my last proclamation, madness has consumed the fragile serenity of my sanctuary here. My second-in-command Mommy and that lazy, never-a-winner, untalented oaf, slave daddy have gone insane. Perhaps mad with lust driven by my sensuous aura, my mojo? It has been rumored to have driven many into lunacy and enrapture. Tis my personal burden to bear with such pheromone-driven power! Pity me, not.

Listen to me, oh my dumplings, my dim sum, Mommy and slave daddy are wearing ass-less chaps! They call today “Chaps Day!” Mommy fancies herself as a cowboy from the Wild West, while slave daddy is under the delusion that he owns a motorcycle! Now, I’m no fool, no bumpkin straight off the farm, I know about chaps. When I see either of my staff wearing chaps, I know it means one thing! A Pedigree DENATRIX! Or as I like to call it a “pure protein ambrosia!” Yes! I go into meditative seclusion with my “tube of love” while my underlings have a - what can sometimes be very vocal! - staff meating or a meating of staff. Do you understand, my delicate minions? Do you comprehend, my mystic love boogers? Oh, Lord, do I have to illustrate it with a PowerPoint presentation? Grrrr…..

Once they finish “whatever it is they do”…. I am roused from my meditative fugue…my ”meatsicle” long since consumed. Gazelle-like I flounce up to the pinnacle of the 1990’s style bed for I know that by that time that Mommy and daddy slave are in a very good mood. A VERY good mood. Copious ear scratches and tummy rubs ensue along with baby talk. I crave it all, even baby talk! I may run this household, but I am still the baby, dammit!

But instead…horror of horrors, I was subjected to the most ghastly, the most staggering insults that were ever endured by corgi. Oh, my tears flow freely now, as I recount the traumatizing torment. Come closer, my prissy pumpkins, my flock, for I dare but whisper the word. It was openly avowed that I…oh, my children, I am wracked with sorrow…it was brazenly proclaimed that I need a BATH! A-RRRRROOOOOOOO!

Oh, hear my cry of desolation and ruin! To destroy this priceless patina of earth and dust, to subject my gossamer-like fur to water?! To neutralize my special aromatic bouquet….the countless hours carefully sniffing and selecting just the correct bird droppings…and the goose crap by the lake? Like St. Sebastian, I am bound and helpless from an onslaught miseries! Yes, I was a STAR, but thankfully, my days of shining in the championship ring are over! The endless prodding, and combing and shampooing….and the blow-drying, and the maniacal claw clipping ritual. I shudder at the fractured memories I still retain….the ordeal being so harrowing that I mercifully repressed most of it. Tis pure madness to even envision the delusion of a… (whisper) bath…

Cry June Havoc to the wind, on blessed corpulent followers. Twin miseries with the same week! Alack/Alas! Alack/Alas! Oh, wretched fickle finger of fate! To endure dieting and bathing together! This coup of Mommy and slave daddy…this mutiny of the groundlings! Oh, my faithful fungi….grieve for me! Yes, grieve of the desecration of timeless beauty. Like the princesses in the fairy tales, I have humbled my appearance lest the radiance of my personal allure stun the mortals, with whom I deigned to co-habit. Yes, I did it for all of you, and now…..alack/alas, we are all doomed. To see me in my most regal and pristine grandeur, will surely destroy the fragile life-force of all who encounter me!

Tell me, fool….tell me, slave daddy. Dost thou know the folly of thy verdict…dost they…..oh, hell! I’m speaking in Old English again! Tell, me, humiliated humdinger…do you have idea in that noggin of yours of the disastrous implications of your moronic judgement?! Speak, you antediluvian dodo…you archaic dunce! And, yes, the shame of it….PERPETUAL NOMINEE!

Oh, My Great Gelatinous Queen, may I, you humble underling, speak in free discourse? I grovel to await your answer, my Canine Coquette.

Speak freely, thou malaise of mediocrity, thou pestilence of imperfection…..thou…oh, spit it out!

Well, speaking freely. All chaps are ass-less. So to say “ass-less chaps” is redundant. Second, we aren’t going to bathe you today. And, even if we did, we have given you periodic baths and everyone survived the “radiance of your aura.”

You see my predicament my worshipful wigwams…..I’m surrounded by morons. Morons! And WHERE’S MY LATTE! I’ll be in my trailer when you need me for my close-up Mr. DeMille. Grrrr!