Mandatory Group Bonding

I have found a ray of hope in this deep, dank pit of despair that is “group care”. Every week, we are subjected to - horror of horrors - a mandatory group bonding ritual. At 9:00  sharp, Monday morning, we are herded like so much cattle into the large, aromatic facility commonly referred to as the “playroom” and made to sit not only among the daily selection of unusual beings but all ages of them. I watch them writhe and twitch on the dusty, ostentatiously colored carpets and wonder if I will ever regress to such a bizarre state. And then we begin to sing...

I have ever loathed the compulsory attendance, banal lyrics and songs that defy all rational musical properties and trite attempts at good-natured “lessons”. The larger peons even chime in with words of assent. It seems they are biologically wired not only to mirror but to condone the behavior of the guards. The head warden herself attends, although I suspect it’s more for population control than any real desire to join us in our lackluster Kumbayas. The whole ordeal had been very trying for me, as it took me away from my main vocation - hoarding the small collection of hammers we have been provided in our cell. 

But huzzah! Inspiration has struck again and now I cannot but love the spectacle ever since. I must admit, I had previously found Jenny to be devoid of any worthwhile interaction (Save for the occasional hair pull. I do love the way she yells.) Yet it is to her that I owe my newfound method of achieving my primary goal: driving my guards bananas. She has learned a small three note section of one of the most off key tunes we sing and will walk around the room, smiling a bland smile and singing them ad nauseum. At first this only prompted me to pull her hair perhaps a little harder when next I get the opportunity but I was amazed to discover the effect of her haunting tune. My “teachers” began to groan, cover their ears and ask her to “please find something to do”. Yes, Journal, it is true. She has found a way to annoy them beyond our usual banging-things-on-other-things routine. Immediately I grabbed the nicest board book we have, sat in the middle of the floor and started wailing the same string of notes as I slammed a small wooden spoon on the book. The reaction was instantaneous. They tried to silence me, but alas! It was too late! My comrades all grabbed their favorite tools of obnoxious noise making and joined me in song. Oh the glory in my heart to see us all united, to see the perpetrators of our suffering/diaper changes clutch their ears and frown. I do not believe it was a coincidence that we were allowed into the outdoor captivity area far earlier than usual and provided extra goldfish at our midmorning feeding. I ate mine (and those of the friend next to me) in silence, smiling a broad, psychotic smile. Ah, I love Mondays.