Bibs. What are they? One supposes they are cloth items worn around the neck. But are they really? That is the question this reporter set out to answer, at great personal expense, having purchased one from a shop downtown for $4.99 — a sum I intend to recover from the K Fund under “investigative supplies,” which is perfectly reasonable and not worth discussing further.
A bib catches food. Everyone knows this. But does everyone truly appreciate it? My moustache tingled violently when I first considered the topic, which told me there was more to this story than meets the eye. There always is, here in Pickax, where last Tuesday alone saw two arsons, a jewel heist, and an attempted poisoning at the Old Stone Mill. Population 3,000. One does what one can.
Koko, of course, understood bibs immediately. He sat on the dictionary — open, I might add, to the B section — and stared at me with an intensity that can only be described as oracular. Yum Yum, meanwhile, stole a bib from the kitchen counter and deposited it at my feet, which I interpret as a clear directive to write this column. These are not ordinary cats. They are, if anything, running this newspaper.
Do babies need bibs? Obviously. Do adults? One would think not, and yet I have seen Arch Riker eat chowder. But I digress. The point is that bibs serve a function. What function? The function of protecting clothing. From what? From food. Why? Because food stains.
I should note that someone has been stealing birdseed from my feeder again. I suspect the squirrels, though in this county one can never rule out foul play. I have asked the K Fund to install surveillance cameras, a modest request that my accountants assure me is entirely tax-deductible as wildlife conservation.
Koko sneezed twice while I wrote this, which I believe means he approves. Yum Yum sat on the manuscript only once, showing unusual restraint. The citizens of Moose County are fortunate that I continue to bring them journalism of this caliber, unprompted and largely uncompensated, unless you count the Klingenschoen billions, which I do not, as they come with responsibilities ordinary people could never fathom.
In conclusion, bibs exist. They are useful. Pickax endures. The cats are geniuses. You’re welcome.
Bibs.
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