the flagging ceremony

Yesterday Lola had her friend, Lawyer, Jr., over for a playdate. Towards the end of the afternoon the two distributed "Invitations To A Flagging Ceremony," illustrated with many tiny sketches of specific, named stuffed animals. Later they called us, and the Sober Husband, a cranky but oddly cooperative Iris, and I filed up to the upstairs landing, long-named "Blinking Street" by the children.

Before we could enter Blinking Street, Lola and Lawyer, Jr. collected our invitations to ensure we had the right to come to the ceremony. The Sober Husband was sent back to find his. Then we were shown to specific seats, with a view of my rowing machine lined and coated with as many stuffed animals as could be crammed onto it.

Afterwards I snagged the sheet of paper Lola and Lawyer, Jr. were passing back and forth between them and am thus able to preserve the words of the Flagging Ceremony.

Lola: Here yee, here yee, now the land called FFLOLO is now a land known to Feline cumunities.

This flagging ceramony is for only those fit for it.

Lawyer, Jr.: Now we shall celebrate in harmony and peace.

But only after we tell you the laws.

* All peace shall be respected and followed.

* Chaos shall be illegall.

* Everyone will be respected.

BOTH: LET'S ROCK!

After shouting "LET'S ROCK!", the two little girls stuck a paper flag on a stick into my rowing machine. I clapped, which caused them to shriek and shriek at the top of their lungs in disapproval. "What, how could I know clapping was wrong?" I asked. Iris uber Alles took a more combative stance. "Screaming is CHAOS, and that is illegal according to your own laws!" she said hotly. The citizens of FFLOLO refused to take the point and shrieked madly. The privileged few invited to the flagging ceremony retreated to quieter lands deeper in the bowels of the house.