"KUKKA! GET YOUR FURRY LITTLE ASS IN HERE!"
As soon as I heard her shrill voice reverberate through the house, I knew the safest place for me was under the bed. It was 7:32 pm. She had the television on, but was in the other room. At least until she heard Pat O'Brien say, "Feline Blogger sells her mansion? We'll tell you more in just 8 minutes...after we check in with the Anorexic Twins and their inspiring trip to Disneyland! Can Mickey Mouse make them eat? But before that, we'll give you the long-awaited 26th segment of our 51-part Anna Nicole Smith series. Is it true she is having breast implants installed in her newborn daughter? She'll tell all...an Insider exclusive!"
"KUKKA! I. SAID. GET. IN. HERE!"
Swipe. Swipe. I suddenly found myself dodging an aggressive arm that had reached under the bed and was blindly thrusting and moving back and forth in an attempt to grab me. I ran from under the bed and into the living room. Jumping on the back of the couch, I feigned sleep as she entered, scowling.
"Why is our...no MY house appearing on The Insider? And why is Pat O'Brien telling me it's for sale?"
Wiping my eyes and yawning, I said, "I don't know what you're talking about. For sale? YOUR house? You may as well be speaking Canadian English. I don't understand a word you're saying."
Just then, Lara Spencer's voice filled the room as she threw to Pat with this teaser: "P.O.B...is it true the Empress is looking to relocate? Do you have the scoop for us?"
Although highly inappropriate at that moment, I had to snicker at Lara's clever pun.
"I sure do, Lara!" bellowed Pat. "Word on the street is that The Empress is broke and trying to raise money for treats. It sounds like willful neglect by her Agent is cited as the source of Kukka's hardship. For more on this breaking story, let's check in with broker-to-the-stars, Dominick Brighton. Dominick...what's the dirt?"
"Well, Pat, it's interesting. While I have never spoken with Empress Kukka-Maria about her home, nor do I know her personally, I have some really important and perceivably critical pieces of insight to share."
"Give us the inside deal, Dominick."
"Pat, it is rumored the estate is merely a vacation home and that she actually spends most of her time in a modest dwelling in West Michigan! I do know that her home is palatial. Perched on a hill, overlooking Lake Michigan, her estate is said to be worth $82 million. Sporting both indoor and outdoor heated pools, a tennis court, a helipad, a three-story scratching post, an eight-foot automated cat tongue on the wall for grooming, and three rooms just to store her custom designer gowns, it's a highly desired property. In fact, the staff of 30 is expected to transfer to the new owners--including The Royal Cat-Petter and Official Litter-Scooper. We sent helicopters to capture an aerial view of her digs."
"That is one amazing crib!"
"Indeed! But do you want to know the real scandal, Pat? The thing that has the country a-buzz?"
"We sure do, Dominick. And we'll find out after this commercial and several needless teasers from Lara."
During the commercial and Lara's schtick, I did my best to look as cute as I possibly could. I rubbed against her leg, purring. I sprawled on my back, spreading my opulent form across the floor, and looked at her sweetly.
It didn't work.
She was irate. I could see the veins in her forehead bulging as her face turned more and more red. Just as she fumbled for words, Pat O'Brien's voice filled the room once more.
"Dominick! What else do we need to know about Kukka's surprising real estate drama?"
"Here's the key piece of scandal, Pat. I heard from a friend of mine who has a cousin whose hair-stylist is the neighbor of the man who plays Texas Hold 'Em with the dude who is the fraternity brother of the man who picks up Kukka's garbage. Seems, as he did his weekly search through her trash, he found a document that said she is listing the property for $3.06."
"Million, of course?"
"No, Pat. Three dollars and six cents...just enough to cover the price of her favorite cat treats, plus the 6% sales tax."
"WHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAT?!" barked my Agent, choking, clenching her fists and locking her jaw. "THREE DOLLARS AND SIX CENTS? ARE YOU FU...ARE YOU...KIDDING ME?"
"Hey. You should really appreciate the fact I wasn't selfish enough to want more than one bag of treats. You should be commending my restraint instead of condemning my real estate judgment." I justified.
She had fainted by that point.
Needless to say, I'm grounded. She's threatening to keep me from The Oscars. She's taken away my Official Litter Scooper (her) and is claiming it's my responsibility to clean up my turds. She has cut me off from treats. She is refusing to let me share her bed. She has even forbade me from watching The Office, knowing full-well how badly I gots to have my Jim Halpert!
She's also giving me the silent treatment. But is that really punishment?
$3.06. Don't say anything, but I'm still selling. Any takers?