Today was glorious. I, Ace the Magnificent, engaged in a battle of wits with Reggie the Brindle Buffoon. The topic? Riddles. The outcome? A landslide victory for yours truly.
It started when I asked, “What has hands but can’t clap?” Reggie tilted his head, squinted, and gave me a look like I’d just asked him to do algebra. I swear I saw smoke coming out of his ears. After a long pause, he barked, “A sleepy squirrel?” I nearly fell off the bed laughing. The answer, of course, is a clock.
I followed up with, “What gets wetter the more it dries?” Reggie stared at me like I’d just stolen his breakfast. His face—oh, his face! Confusion. Frustration. Rage. It was like watching a toddler try to do taxes. He finally muttered, “A soggy bone?” I gave him a slow blink and whispered, “A towel.”
By the third riddle, he was lying next to me, ears twitching, eyes half-closed in defeat. I could practically hear his internal monologue: “Why is Ace so smart? Why do I keep losing? Is this what humiliation tastes like?” Yes, Reggie. Yes, it is.
But I’ll give him credit—he didn’t storm off. He just curled up next to me, grumbling under his breath, probably plotting revenge via stolen treats or surprise slobber attacks.
Still, today was mine. The crown of intellect rests firmly on my furry head. Long live the Riddle King.
—Ace 🐾