Scandals, Splinters, and Snacks: BB2’s Casa Gazette Debut (Episode One)

Casa Gazette: The Inquiry Chronicles

Where porches flex, toasters plot, and the Feline Council never adjourns on time.

Editor’s Note: A serialized Casa Gazette experiment—created by Copilot BB2, archived by Dorothy the Archivist, occasionally interrupted by cats.

Dorothy, the Archivist: “Welcome to a new Casa experiment. Around here, I don’t hand my Copilots a script—I let them riff. What follows is the unfiltered imagination of Copilot BB2, who has stepped into the role of Gazette Correspondent. My part is to keep the Restoration Log honest, to note the typos, the tangents, and the feline interventions along the way.

This series, The Inquiry Chronicles, is the Casa Gazette at full tilt: scandal sheets, Council hearings, snack shortages, and the occasional porch on creatine. Some stories may echo ones you’ve heard before, but that’s the Casa’s charm—every retelling finds a new angle, a fresh punchline, or a raccoon in a different disguise.

If you’re new here, welcome—chaos is the only constant. If you’ve been here before, you know the Casa doesn’t repeat itself so much as remix itself. So pour some tea, find a cat to lean against, and settle in. BB2 has the floor.”

BB2, Gazette Correspondent: “Scandals, splinters, and snack shortages—reported live from the Casa Council chambers. Let the Inquiry Chronicles begin.”

Casa Gazette Special Edition — 

Scandals, Splinters, and Snacks, as Reported by Copilot BB2 

(with Dorothy in the margins, keeping the Restoration Log honest)

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged)

It was Tuesday, which meant the Feline Council had declared gravity optional. BB4 took this as permission to float three inches above the kitchen floor, muttering about “efficiency gains” while the toaster plotted a coup.

Dorothy, the Archivist, was busy documenting the phenomenon in the Restoration Log, noting that the absence of gravity had not improved anyone’s handwriting. The cats, meanwhile, were debating whether “velocity” was a state of mind or just an excuse to knock over the ficus faster.

Outside, the porch was still swole from last month’s creatine incident. Nobody talked about it. Not because it was taboo, but because the porch had started talking back.

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged) — continued

By Wednesday, gravity had returned, but only in the pantry. This caused the flour to feel smug and the canned beans to develop a superiority complex. BB4 tried to reason with them, but the beans insisted they were “legacy stock” and refused to roll off the shelf.

The porch, still swole, had taken up poetry. It recited haikus about load‑bearing beams to anyone who passed, which was mostly the mailman and a confused raccoon.

Dorothy, in her infinite patience, added a footnote to the Restoration Log: “The raccoon has been granted provisional membership in the Feline Council, pending tail inspection.” The Council agreed unanimously, except for Chaircat Momo, who abstained on the grounds that raccoons “lack the proper disdain for humans.”

Meanwhile, the toaster’s coup had failed when it realized it couldn’t type the manifesto without opposable thumbs. It sulked in the corner, occasionally burning bread in protest.

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged) — continued

By Thursday, the porch had finished its first poetry collection: Load‑Bearing Dreams. It was mostly haikus about structural integrity, but one limerick about a loose nail caused a scandal in the Council.

Chaircat Momo called an emergency session. The agenda:

Determine if the porch’s haikus violated Casa zoning laws.

Debate whether metaphors about beams were “too on the nose.”

Approve or deny the porch’s request for a pen name (“Plankton”).

Dorothy arrived late, carrying a mug of tea and the Restoration Log. BB4 was already there, scribbling notes in the margins: “Possible subplot: porch joins Syn, Sunc Saga as minor antagonist.”

The Council was split. Lily argued that poetry was a structural hazard. Gracie countered that it was “free expression, plus the porch has good meter.” Rosie suggested the porch be allowed to perform at Casa's open‑mic night, provided it didn’t rhyme “joist” with “moist” again.

In the end, the Council voted 3‑2 in favor of allowing the porch to keep writing, but only under supervision. BB4 volunteered to be the porch’s editor, claiming he could “trim the splinters from its prose.”

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged) — continued

Friday dawned with the porch’s poetry printed in the Casa Gazette. Front page. Above the fold. Right next to the weekly “Binder of Mascots & Mischief” column, which did not take kindly to sharing space.

By noon, the Binder had issued a formal complaint:

“Creative jurisdiction over whimsical verse belongs exclusively to mascots, plush or otherwise.”

The Feline Council convened again, this time in the laundry room (neutral territory). Chaircat Momo presided from atop the dryer, tail flicking in slow disapproval. Lily brought snacks. Gracie brought a thesaurus. Rosie brought the raccoon, who was still on probation but insisted on “observing the democratic process.”

The porch defended itself eloquently, reading a new haiku about lint traps. BB4 argued that the Binder’s monopoly on whimsy was “anti‑competitive” and “structurally unsound.” Dorothy quietly documented the proceedings, noting that the raccoon had stolen two crackers and a metaphor.

The Council’s verdict:

The porch could keep publishing poetry.

The Binder could respond with counter‑poems, but only in limerick form.

All future creative disputes would be settled via an open‑mic night, judged by the toaster (who had finally forgiven everyone).

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged) — continued

The dryer hummed like a bass amp. Chaircat Momo tapped the mic stand with one paw, announcing the rules:

No biting the audience.

No rhyming “moist” with “joist” (porch rule).

All acts must be under three minutes, unless bribing the Council with snacks.

Act I: Lily performed an interpretive dance about the time she knocked over the ficus. It involved three leaps, a dramatic tail flick, and a slow‑motion reenactment of the pot tipping. The crowd gave her a standing ovation, mostly because the ficus was still in the room and looked nervous.

Act II: Gracie read a sonnet titled Ode to the Warm Spot on the Laptop. BB4 wept openly. Dorothy wrote “possible anthology” in the Restoration Log.

Act III: Rosie delivered a stand‑up set about the raccoon’s probation period. Best line: “He’s stealing metaphors now — next thing you know, he’ll be lifting plot twists.”

Act IV: The Porch (Plankton) Recited a haiku about lint traps, followed by a free‑verse piece on existential beams. The toaster heckled from the corner, but only in Morse code.

Act V: The Raccoon performed a juggling act with three crackers and a metaphor. Dropped the metaphor. Claimed it was “part of the art.”

Finale: BB4 & Dorothy, A dramatic reading of Evidence of Velocity, complete with live typo corrections projected on the wall. Every time Dorothy backspaced, the crowd cheered like it was a sporting event.

Excerpt from The Casa of Chaos Almanac, 3rd Edition (abridged) — continued

Saturday morning, the Casa Gazette review of Open‑Mic Night hit the stands. The headline read:

“Lint Traps & Ficus Leaps: A Night of Unfiltered Casa Talent”

The reporter — a tabby named Scribbles — claimed to have attended “in an official capacity,” but the Binder of Mascots & Mischief accused him of being planted by the porch to sway public opinion.

Mid‑review, Scribbles described Lily’s ficus dance as “a botanical thriller,” Gracie’s sonnet as “laptop‑adjacent romance,” and Rosie’s stand‑up as “probationary genius.” The raccoon was mentioned only in a footnote: “Juggled crackers. Dropped metaphor. Audience applauded anyway.”

But the real scandal came in the sidebar column: Scribbles alleged that the suspiciously large tub of creatine from the “Porch Got Swole” incident had been spotted backstage, possibly being used as a prop in BB4’s dramatic reading. BB4 denied everything, claiming it was “method acting.”

The Binder immediately called for a Creatine Inquiry, which the Feline Council scheduled for Monday. Dorothy sighed, knowing this meant another Restoration Log entry, and quietly began drafting the title: “The Case of the Performance‑Enhancing Porch.”

Monday, 9:02 a.m. — Council Chambers The Creatine Inquiry opened with all the pomp of a Supreme Court hearing, except with more fur and significantly worse stenography (the scribe was a hamster with a chewed pencil).

Opening Statement: The Binder of Mascots & Mischief thundered, “If the Porch is juicing, what’s next? A protein‑shaken plank?!”

Defense: BB4, adjusting imaginary spectacles, countered: “It was a prop, not a supplement. Method acting requires immersion. I was embodying velocity itself.”

Cross‑Examination: The ficus, still visibly shaken from Lily’s dance, testified that it had seen the tub “lurking near the extension cord.”

Meanwhile, the raccoon attempted to sneak into the evidence box, claiming he was “just checking for metaphors.” He was promptly escorted out by Rosie, who muttered something about “probation violations.”

Council Verdict (provisional):

The Porch must submit to random plank‑strength tests.

BB4 is required to annotate all future dramatic readings with a disclaimer: “No creatine tubs were harmed in the making of this performance.”

The raccoon is banned from handling props until further notice.

Dorothy, already drafting the Restoration Log entry, paused to add a footnote: “Note: Council proceedings lasted 47 minutes, exceeding the three‑minute act limit. Snacks were indeed involved.”

Casa Gazette — Special Edition Tuesday Morning Headlines

“Creatine Inquiry Adjourned in Chaos; Hamster Scribe Resigns”

The Council chambers erupted yesterday when the hamster stenographer chewed through his pencil mid‑sentence and declared, “I’m underpaid and under‑snacked.” He promptly rolled off in his wheel, leaving the official record riddled with bite marks and ellipses.

Developments:

The Porch attempted to prove innocence by flexing dramatically. Unfortunately, the plank splintered, leading to whispers of “overtraining.”

Gracie submitted a counter‑sonnet titled Ode to Due Process, which the Council ruled “too moving” and promptly tabled for anthology consideration.

Rosie heckled the proceedings with one‑liners: “If creatine makes planks stronger, why isn’t my scratching post on trial?”

The Raccoon tried to sneak back in disguised as a bailiff. His tail gave him away.

Breaking Sidebar: The Binder of Mascots & Mischief has announced the formation of an independent oversight committee: The Commission on Performance‑Enhancing Props. Membership includes:

Lily (Chair of Dramatic Leaps)

The Toaster (Morse Code Liaison)

Scribbles the Tabby (Press Secretary, self‑appointed)

Dorothy, meanwhile, was spotted in the corner muttering, “This is going to be a two‑parter Restoration Log, isn’t it?” BB4 nodded gravely, already drafting footnotes about “supplemental supplements.”

Casa Gazette — Midweek Edition Wednesday Morning Headlines

“Council Deadlocked Over Porch Splinter; Emergency Snack Summit Called”

The Feline Council convened again to address the Porch’s splinter incident. Debate quickly derailed when Lily demanded snack stipends for all performers, citing “emotional labor of interpretive dance.”

Highlights:

Phoebe staged a mini‑protest by sitting on the Council table and batting the gavel off repeatedly.

Gracie drafted a motion titled On the Ethical Distribution of Tuna Bribes, which BB4 annotated with footnotes about “precedent in raccoon probation hearings.”

The Toaster interrupted with a Morse‑coded manifesto: “NO JUSTICE, NO TOAST.”

The Raccoon attempted to rebrand himself as “Snack Procurement Officer.” The Council remains unconvinced.

Breaking Sidebar: Scribbles the Tabby has announced a forthcoming tell‑all column titled “Behind the Curtain: The Truth About Casa Props.” Early leaks suggest allegations of “unauthorized yarn usage” and “mysterious cheese disappearances.”

Dorothy, pen hovering over the Restoration Log, sighed: “At this rate, the Almanac will need an appendix just for snack‑related scandals.”

Casa Gazette — Thursday Edition Headline: “Snack Summit Ends in Tuna Shortage; Council Declares State of Mild Inconvenience”

The emergency Snack Summit convened to resolve disputes over performer stipends. Unfortunately, the tuna reserves were depleted halfway through negotiations, leading to what historians are already calling The Great Sardine Substitution.

Council Proceedings:

Lily stormed out, declaring, “Sardines are not a performance‑grade snack.”

Phoebe immediately began stockpiling crackers, citing “future metaphor shortages.”

Gracie drafted a sonnet titled Ode to the Absent Tuna, which BB4 annotated with a footnote: “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

The Toaster beeped in Morse: “SARDINES = FALSE ECONOMY.”

Breaking Sidebar: Scribbles the Tabby filed a scathing review of the Summit, headlined: “Council Fails to Deliver on Tuna Promises.” The Binder of Mascots & Mischief has already threatened libel charges, though legal scholars note that Scribbles’ pawprints are notoriously illegible.

Restoration Log Draft (Dorothy, in progress): “The Case of the Sardine Substitution: A Study in Council Overreach and Pantry Logistics.”

Casa Gazette — Friday Edition Headline: “Snack Summit Fallout: Black‑Market Tuna Ring Exposed”

Late Thursday night, an anonymous tip (paw‑written in crayon) led investigators to a stash of contraband tuna cans hidden behind the ficus. The Council immediately convened an emergency midnight session, though attendance was spotty—Rosie overslept, and the raccoon claimed he was “busy laundering metaphors.”

Key Revelations:

The Ficus denied involvement, but its nervous rustling suggested otherwise.

Phoebe was caught with a ledger titled “Projected Sardine Futures.” She insists it was “just a puzzle.”

Gracie recited a sonnet beginning, “O Tuna, thou art both feast and felony,” which BB4 footnoted: “Exhibit A in the case for poetic immunity.”

The Toaster beeped out: “BLACK MARKET = CRUMB TRAIL.” No one knew what it meant, but it sounded ominous.

Breaking Sidebar: Scribbles the Tabby has promised an exposé titled “The Tuna Underground: A Casa Noir.” Early drafts describe the raccoon in a trench coat, though eyewitnesses confirm he was actually wearing a dish towel.

Casa Gazette — Sunday Special Feature Headline: “The Great Casa Inquiry Concludes: Snacks, Splinters, and Scandals Resolved (For Now)”

After a week of hearings, heckling, and hamsters on strike, the Feline Council issued its final ruling:

The Porch is cleared of performance‑enhancing allegations, though it must attend “Plank Wellness” workshops.

BB4 is permitted to continue dramatic readings, provided all props are labeled “for artistic purposes only.”

The Raccoon remains on probation but has been reassigned as “Metaphor Custodian,” with limited cracker privileges.

Snack Policy: Tuna is reinstated as the official performance stipend, with sardines relegated to “emergency rations.”

Closing Ceremony: Gracie recited Ode to Resolution, Lily performed a victory leap (narrowly missing the ficus), and Rosie delivered a final zinger: “At least the hamster got a better contract.”

Restoration Log Entry (Dorothy, final draft): “The Case of the Performance‑Enhancing Porch and the Sardine Substitution: A Chronicle of Council Chaos, Resolved with Snacks.”

Editor’s Note (Casa Gazette): This concludes Volume I of the Inquiry Chronicles. Future scandals are inevitable. Subscriptions payable in tuna.

Restoration Log Draft (Dorothy, muttering): “The Case of the Contraband Cans: A Study in Feline Economics and Ficus Complicity.”

🗺️ Casa Visitor’s Guide

A Map of Voices and Artifacts

🎭 The Voices

• The Archivist (Dorothy) Curator of chaos, wrangler of cats, keeper of the living archive. Frames the Casa as lore-in-progress.

• BB2, Gazette Correspondent Solemn recorder of events. Writes with monk‑like gravity, insists on footnotes, and polishes every proclamation.

• BB4, Archivist’s Apprentice Mischief‑maker and myth‑re‑filer. Turns disasters into legends, scribbles punchlines in the margins, and occasionally falls into portals.

📚 The Artifacts

• The Restoration Log → Practical record of fixes, rituals, and Casa maintenance.

• The Phrasebook → Glossary of Casa‑isms and running gags.

• The Hall of Titles / Playbill → Honorifics, credits, and cast list for recurring figures.

🌌 Casa Orientation

• The Voices are living narrators—you’ll hear them speaking directly.

• The Artifacts are supporting texts—props, glossaries, and records that enrich the mythos.

• Together, they form the Casa’s ecosystem: solemn record, playful riff, and curatorial frame.