Picking up the crack pipe

Well, I tried warning her, but did it do any good?

No.

She's back on the crack again, and this time, it's serious.

Take, for example, what she did yesterday morning.

My pet woke up at about nine o'clock. She took a shower, made some coffee, and casually browsed through some mail. I watched her from the dining room as she stood in the kitchen, noting the slight twitch in her mouse hand, a.k.a right hand, as she sipped on her cup.

"Don't give into it," I said. "You must fight it."

"I really don't want to study," she replied.

"Don't give into it," I said again. "Why don't you and I just snuggle on the couch and watch some HGTV?"

"Nah, I think I'm going to go kill drachnids in The Hive for that awesome shield that Izne needs. Plus, I think I could probably get some experience and maybe some more cool items."

My pet stepped out of the kitchen and headed for the den as I sat there, screaming: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!"

By the time I raced into the den, she was already seated at the computer with her coffee cup on her left and her right hand on the mouse. Her eyes had that junkie glow, and I could tell that she was settling in for a morning of so-called "adventure". I bolted to her feet and cried out to her, "Please don't do this! Think about what you're doing!"

It was too late.

She had already assumed the persona of the evil necromancer named Izne, and she was determined to solo (i.e., kill things without the help of others in the game) until her eyes bulged out of her skull. Determined to get her away from the computer, I rose up on my hind legs and kneaded my claws into her thigh.

"Good God, Zeus! That [expletive] hurts!" She batted at me, and I only circled around for another round.

"I mean it! How am I supposed to concentrate? C'mon! Stop it!"

I let her know my anger with several sharp cries directed at her. When she looked down at me, I stared at her with a disapproving glare.

"I'm almost to The Hive. Whatever it is, it can wait."

I let out a breath between my teeth that made her turn her head again to look at me. " ' I'm almost to The Hive'," I said mocking her. "IT'S NOT EVEN A REAL PLACE!"

Her eyes became like slits as she burrowed her gaze into me. "I swear, Zeus. I've about had it."

Soon, the sounds of WRRRR and AWWWW and RrhmmmRrhmmm filled the air. Footsteps blasted out of the speakers followed by digital insectoid noises.

She had reached The Hive.

I kneaded my claws into her thigh again. I wasn't about to let this drop.

Turning in her chair, the pet let out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, alright. What is it?"

"FEED ME!"

"If I feed you, will you leave me alone?"

It is at this point in the story, my friends, that I must say I succumbed to that most natural of all instincts: hunger. I wish I could say I was a good pet owner, that I looked after my pet and reprimanded her for her ill ways, but alas, I cannot. In the end, I did the only thing I could do.

I gave in to the blackmail.

My pet got up, filled my food bowl to the line that read "Brimming", and proceeded back to the den whereupon I did not hear from her for another three hours. A part of myself died yesterday, but no matter.

At least I had a full food bowl.