Memoirs of a one year old - Chapter 3
16 July 2013
Welcome back again to my
memoirs. Recording my very first year of
life. Having dealt with mobility,
manipulation and bowel movements in Chapter 2, it’s time to move swiftly along
to the next heated topic: Sleep
deprivation – a cunning method of mind control.
As well as other effective forms of torture.
In my experience, and partly due
to my highly evolved skills of observation, I have come to notice how
increasingly erratic the behaviour of the TNC’s (the big ones) become, if
they’re deprived of their precious sleep.
In fact, never mind erratic, they become flat out irrational and half
crazy. And hence I naturally identified
it as a very cunning method of mind control.
Yet another opportunity for manipulation. There are so many. And I must be honest, the TNC’s are not
really great at subterfuge. This was
hardly a difficult deduction to make.
Their lack of self-control is rather alarming. They pretty much wear their hearts on their
sleeves. Sleep deprivation is so easy to
enforce, and set in to motion. Still the
knock-on effect is super rewarding. Sort
of a minimum input, for maximum output kind of thing. And once again, persistence is all
important. A prolonged period of sleep
deprivation is key to breaking the spirit of the TNC’s and bending them to your
will. Achieving docility from them is
the end goal. Allowing them to finally
acknowledge that you are their one true master, and making them do your
bidding. Be mindful though. Ensuring that you never allow them more than
a two hour period or rest, at any given time of the day or night. If you follow this strict regimen, you will
have them eating out of the palm of your hand within no time at all. But be vigilant in your quest. And relentless too. Don’t take pity on them and back down. Perseverance is all important. And whatever you do, don’t succumb to slumber
yourself. Stay awake!
Initially when I had heard
“playground talk” at the portal place (The Clinic), that we too would
eventually grow fangs, I was most distrustful.
Convinced that this would not be so.
Just because the TNC’s had fangs, didn’t mean that we would grow them
too, surely? We were a different species
after all. Don’t believe me? Just look at the difference in size between
us, as well as the head to body ratio.
Clearly we are far more cognitively gifted than them. Furthermore, fangs are not necessary for the
consumption of milk. Irrespective of the
large quantities thereof. So can you
just imagine my surprise, when I found myself sprouting my very own tusks! I must admit that the growing of tusks or
fangs, was a rather painful process. Not
too bad mind you. Still I saw the gap
for manipulation once more. And so I
hammed it up a bit for my audience. I
don’t like to boast, but I am particularly skilful at producing tears at a
whim. Whenever I so wish. And pretending that tusk growing was painful,
was rather inspired. It led to the TNC’s
gave me yummy biltong. Big kudos to
whoever came up with that little “solution and cure” for painful fangs. Clearly it’s no cure or solution. Still it’s damn fine stuff. I like!
A lot! A wee bit of misdirection is good for the soul every so often. And for the gums too.
Other forms of torture: Now I must confess, I had never intended to
get colic. Honestly. Nothing could’ve been further from my mind. But a few days after my arrival through the
portal, we went to the portal place (The Clinic), so that I could be weighed
and measured once more (I’ve told you before how obsessed they are with
physical appearances here). And while I
was there I heard another wise being of my size, boasting about the awesome,
personalised treatment he was receiving because of this thing called
colic. I enquired a bit as to what it
all entailed, and decided to give it a bash.
Oh. My. Word.
It was life changing. So much
attention you would never believe it!
Constantly being held, rocked and soothed. No pressure to sleep. Continual offers of milk all the time. Massages.
Calming music. The whole
enchilada. In fact, I rather felt like
patting myself on the back. And probably
would have, if my arms had been any longer.
And I was double jointed. My
performance was Oscar worthy. It is a
super effective form of torture for the TNC’s.
In fact, you can break them.
Turning them into snivelling, whimpering little puffs of marshmallow –
ripe for exploitation. However I do suspect
that I should be mindful of my super powers and not abuse them too much. I surmise that a combo of sleep deprivation
and colic, would end the TNC’s for good.
Which might have dire repercussions, with regards to my milk
supply. And so I try and be cautious and
not over abuse these powers. It’s hard
to get just the right balance. With
great power, comes great responsibility.
It is good to remember this.
I am gaining more and more
confidence in my TNC speaking abilities.
At night when the TNC’s are sleeping, I tend to practice quite a
lot. I have nearly perfected both
“Mamma” and “Dadda”. And I’m just
waiting for the ideal opportunity to unleash my brilliance upon them. They will be suitably impressed. Of this I am sure. If a mere smile could make them turn to mush,
a perfectly timed “Mamma” should make them melt into a little puddle. It is so easy to read them. In fact, it’s child’s play.
I am becoming more and more
concerned that the rumour I had heard at the portal place (The Clinic) might
actually be prophetic. And not much of a
rumour at all. Especially in the light
of the fang predictions becoming a reality and turning out to be the
truth. Apparently I will eventually
morph into a TNC myself??? I find this
really hard to believe. Attaining such a
great size, must be near impossible.
Added to that, I don’t even think we’re from the same species. Still, I suppose, time will reveal all. Not that I’m holding my breath.
For now, I’m perfectly happy with
my world. Content. Food and drink when I want. Warm, comfy, cosy. Completely and utterly adored. But then again, this is my due.
I can’t blame them for their
subservience. I am ridiculously cute
after all.
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