Genre:  Comedy.  Laugh, dammit, laugh!

Characters: Please, if you know me, this is an obvious one.
Rating: I dunno.  PG?
Disclaimer:  I don't own these.  WEP does.  Don't shoot me.

Title:  Why the hell do I have to come up with a title when this damn cat
doesn't lemme sleep?!

by Kyence



’I hate you.’

Yup, that's what I thought as I opened my eyes for the sixteenth million time this evening.  'Cause I KNOW what I'm gonna see.  A part of me was like,’That's just what he WANTS you to do...don't do it, man, show 'em whose boss.  You're a witch and he's...a cat.  A damn cat.’

I felt the blatant attempt at arousing my slumber as he walked across my body, making sure to step on my belly and my boob at just the most sensitive spots.  It's amazing how much more a 10 pound cat weighs when it deliberately puts its full weight on your pressure points.  No, cats don't play fetch for no money...but they know pressure points better than any shaman could.  I squeezed my eyes shut as I knew what he was gonna do next, what he had done the tens of nights before.  The ol' wet nose on your face, a tactic strong enough to raise the dead.  As a matter of fact, I should jot that down..." resurrect the dead with cat snot..."

I tried reaching for my little spell book I always keep next to my bed-slash-coffin because every good enchantress knows the best inspiration is from dreams, duh, but alas, before I could...

"MMMRROOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!"

"UGGHHHH!  COBA!!! WHAT?!!"  I screamed, unable to contain my anger any
longer. I suddenly heard a bang on the wall, followed by some female giggles.

"Hey!  Keep it down in there, hag!!!"

Oh, surprise, surprise.  Prince Lotor's sowing his oats with his harem.  It's not fair.  Zarkon wants ME to design robeast after robeast like a Detroit assembly line, and somehow have them strong enough to resist a legendary, magical robot like Voltron.  It's hard enough for me to try doing it with a full day's worth of sleep, but now being deprived of THAT, and trying to make up for it at night...well, it's been affecting my work. I sat up in my bed with a groan and a creak in my back, grimacing at Coba,
who was purring up a hurricane.

"You know I get yelled at really bad today because of you.  Do you know why???  Hmmm?? Why??"  I asked as I leaned toward him, forcing my voice to sound sweet at the end.  Coba seemed unimpressed as he ignored my assertiveness and walked into my lap. "My robeast threw rocks.  ROCKS?!  And not big ones.  Little ones!" Coba,

unimpressed, started making himself comfortable by sticking his claws in and out of my black nightgown.

I heard banging on the wall once again.  "HEY!!  I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO
SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"

I grumbled to myself, jumping every now and then as you-know-who burrowed into my skin.  I was sure I was wearing an undershirt by the time I heard the amicable prince in the next room.

"WHAT?!!  WHY IS HE TELLIN ME TO SHUT THE HELL UP?!  IT'S HAGAR WHO STARTED IT!"

Ah, it seems Zarkon's ears still work.  He must've sent a messenger to deliver the diplomatic message.  Only a matter of time before...

The knock on the door.  I got up to get it, in my nightgown which has been amply shredded to show my voluptuous curves, and I answer the door. The guard's eyes blinked several times.  I think I actually saw a tear and hear a whimper.

"Zarkon says to 'Cease the racket, cretins!'" the messenger said, not bothering to paraphrase.

"That's a great impression," I said.

"Really?  You think?" he replied, suddenly excited.  "Y'know, I've been working on a bit for the annual Doom talent show...speaking of that, do you think you can make me a magical King Zarkon doll out of wood so it moves its mouth and stuff when I want it to?"

I wish these mechanical doors allowed you to slam them.  I REALLY want to slam a door right now.

"Tell you what...bring this message to Zarkon..." I suddenly had an idea.

Ah, this evening is great!  I slept the rest of the night AND the day!  I am ready to craft the greatest of robeasts!  I only wonder why I didn't think of it sooner.  Now, I only need Zarkon's approval of these blueprints...speaking of which, where IS that old geezer?




I am going to kill it.  I really am.  In about three seconds.  Here's my hands.  See?  See?  They are reaching out...and I just...have to snap...the..."OW!!!" I bellow at the top my lungs.  "THIS BETTER NOT GET INFECTED!"

On my intercom, I hear that wretched boy's voice:  "YOU'RE TOO NOISY!!!!"

I promptly curse at the intercom in every language I know.

"MMMRRROOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!"

I look at that damn woman's cat, who has a superior look on its face.  Hell, it should.  There are billions of beings who would give their lives to get a chance to hurt and annoy me, King Zarkon.

"I hate you."