About a week ago there had been two special incidents. They were actually identical, but I had only been witness to one of them. It seems that one of the cats had taken a crap on the living room floor, and just left it there as if saying, “Get bent, Edward!”. Of course, my room mate expected me to clean it up, as I was the first to make this rather uncommon observation. However, I'm allergic to the small critters, and if I don't pet them, feed them or even get the near them, I will not be the one to scoop their crap off the floors. I had spoken this attitude to my room mate, and she was not pleased with what she had heard. Though, it's safe to assume that she could see the logic in what I had said still with a lot of tension in the air. The day after the same incident had apparently repeated itself, but I had not been around, thank God, and I had been asked to keep the living room door shut to keep the cats out of there.
Yesterday, I had chased Devil Cat out of the living room, with some feeling of satisfaction I might add. It had snuck in again moments later and hid behind the sofa. But of course, I am not tolerant nor slightly flexible, when it comes to that diabolic cat. Its actions only seem to fuel my irritation and compel me into making its life even more miserable. I had simply lifted the sofa to let it know that I could not be outsmarted by a defective model from the feline production factory. The cat's face had frozen, and I could almost hear it screaming “Daram yoo!” in a thick Romanian accent, before it ran out of the living room. I recall observing that because of it's short thick legs and wooden floor, it was slipping and was nowhere as fast as non-mutated cats. Again, I felt tempted to tackle the beast and subsequently get out a long-range weapon of some sort, preferably a sniper-rifle or a crossbow, and bullseye the cat's rectum. A fitting end for that malformed beast.
It's very likely that it was not this cat that had taken a crap on the floor. To be honest I think it was the crippled cat. It practically drags her ass across the floor, and it is only easy and convenient for her just to take a dump while she is on the move. Though, deep down in my caveman heart , I wish it to be Devil Cat. Only that way can I mildly justify my cruel and violent emotions for it.
I have noticed that the neighbours have a cat named Dennis. Whenever I sit here by the window, I can always hear one of them calling for it. The mother uses a high-pitched voice, which makes her sound like Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances, “Hiiiier Kiiiiiiettty Kiiiiettty. Diiiinnniiiis. Kiiiietkiiiietkiiietkiiietty”. I don't fully understand, why anyone would need to distort their voice in an attempt to communicate with their pet. People do the same when they talk to infants or younger children. It's rather retarded. Indulge me for a moment here. If I walked up to you and started speaking like a bad imitation of Mickey or Minnie Mouse, wouldn't you think that I was severely brain-damaged? What's even more funny, is the daughter. She also calls for the cat. I reckon that she's around 6 or 7 years old, and with her thick British accent she calls for the cat, “Dennis!!! Here Ketketketkettey”.
This neighbourhood is obviously dedicated to some sort of odd depraved feline creed. Their lives revolve around these damn cats. Wherever I turn, they just seem to be there. Why do people find cats so adorable? They are disloyal, egocentric and careless beasts. They do have the advantage of being able to take care of themselves, but then again when we get a pet, isn't our intention to care and nurture it?
Yesterday, I had chased Devil Cat out of the living room, with some feeling of satisfaction I might add. It had snuck in again moments later and hid behind the sofa. But of course, I am not tolerant nor slightly flexible, when it comes to that diabolic cat. Its actions only seem to fuel my irritation and compel me into making its life even more miserable. I had simply lifted the sofa to let it know that I could not be outsmarted by a defective model from the feline production factory. The cat's face had frozen, and I could almost hear it screaming “Daram yoo!” in a thick Romanian accent, before it ran out of the living room. I recall observing that because of it's short thick legs and wooden floor, it was slipping and was nowhere as fast as non-mutated cats. Again, I felt tempted to tackle the beast and subsequently get out a long-range weapon of some sort, preferably a sniper-rifle or a crossbow, and bullseye the cat's rectum. A fitting end for that malformed beast.
It's very likely that it was not this cat that had taken a crap on the floor. To be honest I think it was the crippled cat. It practically drags her ass across the floor, and it is only easy and convenient for her just to take a dump while she is on the move. Though, deep down in my caveman heart , I wish it to be Devil Cat. Only that way can I mildly justify my cruel and violent emotions for it.
I have noticed that the neighbours have a cat named Dennis. Whenever I sit here by the window, I can always hear one of them calling for it. The mother uses a high-pitched voice, which makes her sound like Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances, “Hiiiier Kiiiiiiettty Kiiiiettty. Diiiinnniiiis. Kiiiietkiiiietkiiietkiiietty”. I don't fully understand, why anyone would need to distort their voice in an attempt to communicate with their pet. People do the same when they talk to infants or younger children. It's rather retarded. Indulge me for a moment here. If I walked up to you and started speaking like a bad imitation of Mickey or Minnie Mouse, wouldn't you think that I was severely brain-damaged? What's even more funny, is the daughter. She also calls for the cat. I reckon that she's around 6 or 7 years old, and with her thick British accent she calls for the cat, “Dennis!!! Here Ketketketkettey”.
This neighbourhood is obviously dedicated to some sort of odd depraved feline creed. Their lives revolve around these damn cats. Wherever I turn, they just seem to be there. Why do people find cats so adorable? They are disloyal, egocentric and careless beasts. They do have the advantage of being able to take care of themselves, but then again when we get a pet, isn't our intention to care and nurture it?
Edward T. ShuffleBottom
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