Dining Next To King Cat

King Cat sat at the head of the table without a care. His corpulent body oozing out of his super big chair. His girth slipped onto the edge of my chair like a wing. His fur was prickly, but I dared not say a thing. He was all powerful at this table, the king, after all. Throwing around his weight, his ideas ridiculously small. I made a note to myself next year to take a chair at the foot. His brutish behaviors were annoying I told my clown, Soot. Soot had been around since King Cat was a boy. He was a sad little thing; food became his best toy. Feeling sorry for him, I felt empathetic now. But I would rather dine in a hall next to a cow.