My first blog on the Scribatious website!
In which I ransack my celebrity cookbooks for some basic advice and end up with the opposite.

This is what started it

This morning, Rowser and Feydeaux were nowhere to be found. Two empty dog baskets. Two discarded collars. Pinned to the bag of kibble, a note:

‘Oscar for Kitteh.

Then doggehs return.’

All that cooing and gushing over Uggy in The Artist was just asking for trouble, people. Some idiots even said he deserved an Oscar, for Chrissakes. It was playing with fire. Bound to stir up tensions. You dog lovers had your fun, but it’s my pups who have to pay the price.

The deal is simple. They’ve supplied the short list. I do the text. If it all goes as planned, this can all be settled peacefully. Negotiation is useless. We’re dealing with powers beyond our control. Evil entities for who chuckle with cold amusement at the concept of mercy. Please believe me when I say that I had no choice.

So here they are: the nominees for Baddast Kitteh.

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