I hate cats. I really fucking hate 'em...
I didn't used to, it's something that's happened gradually since
I came to Asheville. Allow me to give you a little history.
In 1999 I moved to this town and got a house on Oregon Ave (off
of Patton) with an old friend of mine, Philip Lomac. For those of you who enjoy depriving yourselves of things that kick ass,
Phil is the lead singer of the band Senatobia, (http://www.senatobiamusic.net).
So one warm Sunday afternoon, I'm sitting on the back porch
writing novels and drinking my preferred Country Gentleman and Diet Coke, when this cat starts lurking around the edge of
the backyard.
I didn't pay it any attention at first, but then it started
inching closer, and closer, and closer, eventually rubbing up against my leg like the whore it was. I'm a generally kind hearted
guy, so I resisted the urge to grab it by the tail and smash it against the side of the house. Instead, I went into the kitchen,
found a can of tuna, and gave it to the cat.
So began my Dante's descent in to feline purgatory...
Don't make this mistake, boys and girls. Don't EVER feed a cat-
unless you're feeding it a high caliber rifle bullet. All cats come from Hell, and they will eventually return there, so there's
no harm in killing them on sight. I recommend the Remington Model 7400 30-06 carbine for this job. Why? Because shooting
a cat with a deer rifle is the best way to make sure it explodes.
I sawed mine off, (both barrel and stock), so I can quick draw
and fire should some god cursed pussy come cuckolding around in my dominion. It usually goes something like this:
Cat: "Raaaaarw!" (translation: "Pet me, so that the mind control
texture of my fur can seduce you.")
Mike: "Get thee behind me, succubus!!!"
Cat: "Raaaaarw!" (translation: "Don't be afraid. It's okay to
feed me.")
Mike: [backpedaling because my rifle jammed] "EAT SHIT, YOU
FOUR-LEGGED CERVIX!!!"
Cat: "Raaaaarw!" (translation: "Let me in, so that I may claim
your dirty clothes hamper as my personal urine reservoir.")
Mike: [30-06 round sliding into place] "GOD, AND KING
RICHARD!!!"
KERPOOOWWW!!!!
And that's how it's done...
Well, that's how I do it now. Before, I would often fall
under the evil spell of the puss, and it took me years of dysfunctional abuse before I stood up for myself and embarked on
a Jihad against cats.
Getting back to that Sunday afternoon in 1999, I was unable
to get rid of the cat after the first time I fed it, so it eventually moved in and became me and Phil's pet. I didn't bother
to give it a name, I just called it "Kitty", as in, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty... Come on... Hop up into the chipper/shredder..."
Kitty was nice at first... ya know, NOT crapping in the house,
coming when called, attacking people I didn't like. And then, about three months after Kitty moved in, Kitty began to stink.
I couldn't figure out what the smell was for the longest time, until one morning I woke up and Kitty was in my bed, her ass
on my face!!!
It was then that I realized that Kitty was female, and pregnant,
and that some kind reproductive fluid was constantly seeping out of her, uh, private area. I'd had cats before, but I'd never
been privy to one leaking all over the place. And when I say this stuff stunk, I'm talking about clear the room, scream in
horror, gag-reflex foul.
Remember at the beginning of Ghostbusters when they go into
the library, and all the card shelves are covered in ectoplasm? Well, that's what came out of Kitty's rear end, and since
she was sleeping with her ass on my face... Yeah, you get the idea.
"BLAAAAAAAGH!!!"
Right back at cha, bitch! I vomited all over Kitty, which causes
Kitty to freak out and run through the house trailing the contents of my stomach across the carpet in figure eight patterns.
Luckily, it was my day off, and since Phil had already gone to work, I spent the morning cleaning up puke and cat excretions.
(By the way, I think Kitty vomited too at some point, 'cause
there was stuff in the carpet I know damn well I didn't eat.)
The smell was so bad, I had no choice but to wash my sheets,
pillow cases, and bedspreads in tomato juice. I also had to give Kitty a bath, which is absolutely, positively, one of the
hardest tests of opposing wills a human being can engage in. Cats go apeshit when you try to put them in water, and I was
scratched all to hell by the time it was over.
That's okay though, 'cause Kitty got hers. At one point, she
bit me in the bend between my thumb and index finger, which caused me to violently jerk my arm away and right into the nearby
shelf on the wall. There was a radio/cassette player on top, which promptly topples over and right into the half full bathtub
with Kitty. Did I mention it was plugged in?
REEEEAAAAAARRR!!!!
Now, a very popular murder method in movies is to drop a plugged
in electrical appliance into a bathtub full of water with the victim.
H O R S E S H I T !!!
I don't know if cats are immune to electricity, but Kitty didn't
die. In fact, all she did was "jump" out of the tub with preternatural speed and veracity, then to fly over my head and land
some fifteen feet away in the hall. I do remember smelling the pungent aroma of burnt hair, but there weren't any sparks or
sizzling sounds, and Kitty seemed fine as she fled in terror down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the screen door,
(which she punched through).
At least she was clean though, right?
I didn't see Kitty for a while, but soon she came whoring back
around, and by now, you could REALLY tell she was pregnant. Phil and I were set to move out in couple of weeks, and we really
couldn't decide what to do. Given the pain of my scratched arms, neck and face, I wanted to drown Kitty and her unborn spawn
in a river of molten lava, but Phil wouldn't hear if it, (he's kind of a wuss).
So me and Phil bicker back and forth about the fate of the cat
for several days, and then we find Kitty holed up in the garage under an old blanket, a litter of four kittens suckling at
her teats.
Son of a bitch...
Well, we were moving out, and we couldn't just leave 'em, so
Phil and I decide to take all five of the little bastards with us to our new house in Fairview, NC. We were moving in with
five other people: Will, Danielle, Alex, Kip, and Steve. There's no need for you to know who these people are. All that needs
mentioning is that the house in Fairview was freaking HUGE, (like the Real World house), complete with a full, wrap around
porch, Jacuzzi, and regulation size volley ball court. The only reason we could afford it was because we were splitting the
rent seven ways.
Anyway, one of the guys, Will, also had cats... SIX CATS!!!
Which brings our grand total up to eleven. We managed to give away two of the kittens to an annoying girl with big boobs named
Bailey, so during the two years we were there, it was pretty much just The Nine.
Man, there was pussy everywhere!!! Open the cabinet door, THERE'S
A CAT!!! Lay down to go to sleep, THERE'S A CAT!!! Sit down to take a dump, THERE'S A CAT!!!
I grew to loathe those beasts, and not just because they were
always in my shit. Cats are the stuck up bitches of the animal kingdom, always strutting around all high and mighty, always
pissing on your stuff, always jumping up in your lap like it's a PRIVILEGE to pet them.
Needless to say, one of Will's cats mysteriously died while
we were all living there, but the rest survived, and I was granted amnesty when Will agreed to take not only his cats, but
mine as well.
Thanks Will!
So Phil and I got a kick ass apartment downtown together, and
there we lived in cat free bliss for a year and a half until Phil decided to move in with his girlfriend Jodi. This left me
to move in with my training buddy, (and perpetuator of assbeatings), Kyle.
I remember the first day I moved in with Kyle. Everything was
great. The house was nice, I was still close to downtown, and my new roommate was a live-in training partner.
That's about the time I sat down on the couch, clicked on the
big screen TV, and heard:
"Raaaaarw!"
REE!!! REE!!! REE!!! REE!!!
"NO!" I screamed, "It can't be!!!" But sure enough, there was
a god damn cat sitting on the arm of the couch. And not just ANY cat, but a solid black cat with eerie blue eyes.
I reached for something to hit it with, but I was too late.
The cat was in my lap purring, and I was condemned by it's evil cat powers. Another cat crawled out from beneath the adjacent
chair, and then a third rose right out of the carpeted floor. I was Keanu Reeves in Bram Stoker's Dracula, all the evil cat
harlots crawling all over me and purring while I lay there impotent and helpless.
In the four months since, I've become a slave to the feline
inhabitants of the house. They make me feed them, open the door when they want to go out, and even clean up their crap when
they defecate on my pillowcase... WHILE I'M USING IT!!!
The head evil cat, Mr. Jingles, has taken to taunting me intentionally.
You see, I have a little office in the back of the house where I work on my novels, and at least once a day, Mr. Jingles will
come back there and start whining to go out.
"Raaaaarw! Raaaaarw! Raaaaarw! Raaaaarw! Raaaaarw! Raaaaarw!"
There's no way I can concentrate with that kind of repetitive
racket going on, (not to mention that Mr. Jingles and I both know that something's gonna get crapped on if I don't move my
ass), so I get up, walk all the way to the other side of the house, and hold the front door open for Mr. Jingles to make his
regal exit into the neighborhood, (where he rules all other cat kind with an iron claw).
This would be fine if Mr. Jingles always went out, but sometimes
he's just fucking with me. He'll make me get up, walk all the way to the front door, and then he'll do some kind of cat laugh
and run away. Sometimes he even gives me "the paw".
I've tried chasing him down, but I'm no match for his evil cat
superpowers, and I'm doomed to endure this never-ending holocaust of abuse. I was lying before when I said I shoot cats on
sight. I've tried, GOD KNOWS I'VE TRIED!!! But Mr. Jingles is just too smart, and he commands an entire cat army. I'm only
one man, and Kyle is too far gone to help me. He's a cat slave too, but he doesn't know it.
Shhh!!! I have to go now, they're watching...
