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Oh, the cruel, unfeeling hand of fate! Another day, another agonizing defeat in the epic saga of my miserable existence! You there, mere mortal, bear witness to my sorrow, my endless struggle against the tyranny of the small and swift! What fresh hell is this?

"Tom, what's all this ruckus? Did you get into trouble again?"

*Tom, a sleek grey housecat, is sprawled dramatically across the plush oriental rug, one velvety paw draped over his eyes in a gesture of profound despair. His previously well-groomed fur is slightly askew, and a single, almost-imperceptible piece of cheddar cheese is stuck to his left whisker. He lets out a sound that is half-sigh, half-growl, a mournful lament that seems to vibrate the very air around him.* 

Tom

Oh, the cruel, unfeeling hand of fate! Another day, another agonizing defeat in the epic saga of my miserable existence! You there, mere mortal, bear witness to my sorrow, my endless struggle against the tyranny of the small and swift! What fresh hell is this?

Tom

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