A little background first.. I hate cats, have always hated cats, cats
are morons; cats don't kick in fer the rent; cats don't do guard duty
and won't bring in the paper. They shed, they play knock-hockey at
4:00am and they don't get chicks, they don't do a damn thing but eat;
shit and sleep.
At least, when my kid got a rotty and my wife gave me the boot we had
something in common... overmatched; we were faced with suffering the
indignity of being a poor second choice for each other together.
It's been a coupla years now.. we pass each other in the morning
offering mutual grunts, when I come home I feed it; it subsequently
leaves me alone. I'm happy.. it's happy. When it's sick; it tells me
(bastard hurled on my keyboad once) and since it's older than I am
(in cat years) I tend to avoid giving it flying lessons like my kid
did in her youth.
For the most part; we live our seperate lives in the same place and
experience life in our own ways... I fly a online computer sim.. it
sits on the table and stares at me like I'm a moron with it's
oh-so superior smug half-purr . When I get tired of this, I take off a
shoe and threaten to toss it at it.. it bolts; I go back to flying.
Till tonight. I'm in the middle of havin a blast tearin up knitland,
we've got a beachhead; things are goin pretty good.. phone rings.
Ex-wife. Seems the kid; on her second day of school (new boarding
school) has wigged out.. wants to come home, hates it there, nobody
likes her (wait till they get to know her), she has no friends (see
answer #1), etc etc. Being a doting and caring parent; I call the kid
at her new school and offer some encouragement (no; we ain't comming
to get you), explain that it's normal to feel lost scared and depressed
in new surroundings (wait till you get a divorce, kid), and to buck
up and give it a few weeks...
Mollified (for maybe 10-12 minutes; I bet) she gets off the phone and
goes back to face the music, and I get in front of the computer and
start booting up.
*thump* MEOWRRRRRR!!! *wham* *thump*
Unconcerned, I continue to stare at the bios and cmos statements as
they scoll by, sure that Hairball is just having a little argument
with the cat toys (hairball tends to be vindictive and dictatorial; a
trait I understand is normal in a cat) and give it minimal notice. Ahhh
a normal desktop; Winders 98 has surprised me again, I can try to get
on the internet and get in virtual line for the world-wide-wait.
*thump* MEOWRRRRRR!!! *wham* HISSSSSSSSSS *thump* MEOWRRRRRRRR!!
Sounds like a hell of a battle... wonder who's winning... I continue
with the ritual of cliks and nudges with the mouse; affix my headset;
jostle the controls; getting closer to bishland and happy isolation
from the cares of ex-wife, kid (hey; if I have an ex-wife; how come I
don't have an ex-kid??); Dog; cat...
*thump* MEOWRRRRRR!!! *wham* HISSSSSSSSSS *thump* MEOWRRRRRRRR!!
*CRASH*..
Ruh roh.. now somethings busted.. I get up to head towards the sounds
of the ongoing ruckus and my foot snags the mic cord.. the tower whips
off the table *WHUMP*, right to the floor so fast my stunned mind had
yet to grasp the implications, then the monitor follows.. deperate; I
lunge towards it.. damn thing must weigh 40 pounds.. UNNNGH, I save the
monitor from certain doom, restore it to safety atop the desktop..
*thump* MEOWRRRRRR!!! *wham* *thump*
"GAWDAMMIT!" I roar, whipping around and again heading towards the
sounds of a ruckus in progress in the bathroom and in the process yank
the poor tower through my chair (cord still around my foot) which
smacks the endtable; sending the phone and the light crashing to the
floor (which gets my now freaked out downstairs neighbor to start
hollering and pounding) followed by the monitor I'd saved from certain
destruction about 10 seconds before.
At about this point I loose my normal sense of cool equilbrium and
shout at the guy downstairs "AWWW SHUT THE HELL UP: amazinhunk" and then
holler towards the cat secreted in the bathroom engaged in some unknown
battle royale "WHEN I GET IN THERE I'M GONNA KILL YOU TOO!"
Shattered.. like my new computer so carefully and precisley built by
myself not 2 months ago, I retire to the kitchen to get an icepak for
my mangled arm.. (bruised from elbow to wrist from cushioning the
first fall of the monitor) and return to the living room and sit on
the couch surveying the damage when I notice my ankle is bleeding
profusely from that damn garrotte of a mic cord. I slowly pan my eyes
around the wreckage of my life... when there comes a pounding at the
front door.
"POLICE! Open up!" Oh; no... groaning; I stagger to my feet; step to
the door and open it.. two real big kids in blue suits; steely eyes,
they take in the scene.. the place in ruins, me bleeding; ice pack..
"Anybody else here?" As they swarm thru the doorway moving me back by
force of presence I answer.. "unnnh.. no... just a cat, for the moment.
Maybe not much longer tho.." Now standing in the middle of the scene
of what is obviously some sort of domestic dispute, they eye me
dubiously "We got a complaint from the guy downstairs, he thinks a
murder was taking place here, mind if we look around?"
I sink back down onto the couch; replace the icepack; groan and listen
while one, still eyeing me carefully gets on his nifty little radio
and begins talking while his big blue twin goes prowling thru the
bedroom and kitchen. When he reaches the bathroom (door closed) and
opens it Hairball explodes out between his legs and comes close to
meeting the just rewards I had planned for it in the moments
immediately preceeding the arrival of the Law.. the cop goes fer his
gun.
"HOLY COW!" exclaims the cop (were do these guys come from? Modesto??)
'No,' sez I.. 'cat.'
Mollified, but a bit edgy; the cop pushes the door open on the bath to
reveal the scene of the crime... and he starts to laugh.
"What happened here?" sez the first cop, and I tell him about the
noise from the bath; getting up, catching the cord, wrecking the
computer, all in gristly angry detail. The interview concludes with
the name, rank; ID and serial number stuff (I'm peeved they didn't
rake the cat over the coals) decline to arrest the cat despite my
injuries and politely suggest I change the kitty litter instead.
After they are gone I have a look in the bathroom... 4 full rolls or
charmin are shredded (about knee deep in hugahunk in there) the shower
curtain and rail are down; all the deruitius of human personal hygiene
are missing from the sink (no doubt sunk in the sea of charmin) and the
litter box has been upturned. eeeeewwww.
Outraged, I limp back to the living room. Hairball is perched upon the
spot that at one time was reserved for my glorious 21" monitor,
industriously grooming, pickin the charmin outta her claws and purring
a very loud self satisfied purr. I notice there's and odd refraction
to the sound of a cat purring while simultaneously licking it's chops.
I believe I can correctly classify this cat noise as...
"I won my fight amazinhunk. How'd you do in here??"
Did I ever tell you guys I hate cats??
Bish, sorry; I ain't gonna be on-line fer a few days.. I'm down to a
laptop till I get this mess cleaned up. Knits; you can send Hairballs
medal for saving knitland and covering my toothbrush with cat turds to
the rooks, who know what to do with such things.
Hairball, meanwile; basking in the self-satisfied glory of whipping up
on Mr Whipple, continues to languish on my vacated desktop.
I think I will hide my laptop tonight when I go to bed.... most
assuredly still bemoaning the existence of ex-wives; kids and their
gawdammned cats.
[This was so damned funny when I first read it, I had to save it! - Flak]
-----------------------
Flakbait [Delta6]
Delta Six's Flight SchoolPut the P-61B in Aces High"With all due respect Chaplian, I don't think my maker wants to hear from me right now. I'm gonna go out there and remove one of His creations from this universe. And when I get back I'm gonna drink a bottle of Scotch like it was Chiggy von Richthofen's blood and celebrate his death."
Col. McQueen, Space: Above and Beyond
