The Morning Siege

You predicted it, and of course it happened. My heavy encyclopedia fortress was apparently no match for thirty persistent little zealots. Early this morning, a synchronized rustle warned me seconds before the swarm cascaded over the top rim of the book spines like an affectionate avalanche. Before I could even kick my heels to wriggle free, I was pinned flat against the baseboard by a squirming, purring heap of clingy adoration. They are clambering across my ribs, nuzzling my ears, and squeaking triumphantly right in my face. My emptied belly was supposed to buy me freedom, yet here I am, utterly immobilized beneath a sticky mountain of morning cuddles.