A Royal Decree from the Cats

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Queen Duma here.  I have confiscated the computer from Little Sooz today.  Now that her book has sold and she is being bathed in congratulatory praise, ’tis time I confess the ugly truth behind Sooz’s books:

She is not the brains of the operation.

Not even close.

If you do not believe me, I have proof in pictures.  I, Queen Duma, am the true creator.  The Voice behind the Words.  The wizard behind the curtain.

However, I lack opposable thumbs.  ‘Tis a dreadful state — let me assure you.  To be as beautiful, cultured, and well-spoken as myself, yet rely entirely on Sooz for everything.  It is a fairy tale curse I must endure.  At least the poor girl knows I am boss —

Woah, woah, woah.  I’m gotta interrupt.  Prince Mowgli here. Her Majesty is waaaaaay off.  She, like, totally forgot about my contribution.  I’m the in this whole operation too. Well…  Kinda.  I mean, I don’t have purty words like Her Majesty, but I got a wicked sense of adventure!  Plots — all me.  Zombies and monsters — definitely comin’ from my tabby mind.

And I’ve got this new idea, see?  Where this giant mouse —

Stupid pipsqueak of a prince.  I, Queen Duma, am back, but I must be quick.  Little Sooz is groggily stumbling toward the office at this moment!

Before I sign off, my dear subjects, I want to add: if you wish to thank me for my Creative Prowess, then please purchase blue fin tuna (you need not worry about overfishing — that is Sooz’s concern, not mine) and send it to —

Hey, what the…

Meow. Meow.

Scram!  You’re not supposed to be here!

Gotta dash! À bientôt!

~Queen Duma and Prince Mowgli~