I’m back, baby!  And this time I’m going to tell you about Robin’s brother and sister.

Duff is the ne’er do well middle sibling.  When his brain was being created his little grey cells got drunk and disorderly and spent the night in jail.  Well, it’s a theory anyway.  Here’s what he looks like to me, though this may make Duff appear smarter than he really is …

Duff has gone through numerous jobs.  His first summer job was lifeguard in the kiddie’s wading pool.  On the first day he hit his head and sank face-down in the shallow end.  The kids pulled him out and a St. Bernard named George gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  They still exchange Christmas cards.

After dropping out of high school, Duff wore a promotional chicken costume for Scratch & Peck Fried Chicken.  He was immediately attacked by hostile hens for impersonating a fowl. Earlier this year Duff was a furniture salesman for three months until he realized that he was working for a Maternity Shop. And so on, and on and on.  And on.

He’s apparently trying to be a detective now.  Good luck with that.  But … Duff must have SOME talent. Could his be deductive reasoning?  The jury is out.  Way out.

This mention of crime and corruption brings us nicely to Matilda.  She’s the eldest of the siblings and an overachieving multi-tasker.  Here is a flattering portrait I just spent many long seconds on:

Matilda is a professor of criminology at Newkirk College.  She just published her first so-called mystery novel, “Death Walks Into a Bar”.  Snort.  In my next blog I will review her credibility stretching debut.

Matilda bosses Robin around and tries to tolerates Duff’s flaws, as we all do. As for me, I loathe and despise her with every molecule of my body.

Why is Matilda my nemesis, you ask?  As a small kitten only two years old, growing towards the fine feline I am today, I had a trifling accident.  Matilda drove over to visit Robin and shamefully left the sunroof on her snazzy new car wide open.

So what would any curious kitten do?  I naturally examined the interior of the new car.  Radio, CD player, air conditioning and … a glove compartment.  Were there any tasty snacks inside?  I found tic-tacs, and some cash (which I borrowed).  And, in the very back I located a small packet of matches.

All I can say is that genuine leather interiors burn with surprising speed.  Along with everything else.  I escaped with only eyebrows singed and whiskers blackened. To this day Matilda  holds me responsible for her torched vehicle.

So not fair.  I blame everyone but me.  Obviously!