In an attempt to meet more women, I decided to visit an online dating website. Since I fail at life, I decided to get some people to come with me. The format was odd: the site was set up like the old gameshow "the dating game". The bachelorette would ask her suitors a question, which they had to answer in a cool or interesting way. Or something. I didn't really understand it, since I suck with people. Also, this is in no way a complete rip off of an old Somethingawful.com article.
Bachelor #1: An evil cat, brimming with homicidal rage, who can somehow talk.
Bachelor #2: A major crime boss, who pretends to be a mild-mannered housewife in New England. Currently extra pissed off due to hurricane Irene.
Bachelor #3: A fat, balding, smelly loser with a raging case of Asperger’s and a freakishly large penis.
Q: Tell me how you kiss.
Cat: I don't have lips.
Shannon: Kiss? the electric company out here can KISS MY ASS! A WEEK AND STILL NO POWER?!? WHAT THE FUCK!
Me: um.......using lots of teeth?
Q: If you were a car, what kind would you be?
Cat: Whichever kind kills things.
Shannon: An amphibious car, because THIS PLACE IS STILL FUCKING FLOODED GODDAMMIT!
Me: A garbage truck. I'm full of things people don't need and would rather not have to deal with.... and I spill them everywhere I go.
Q: I spell relief M A S S A G E. How do you spell relief?
Cat: T H E N E I G H B O R ' S D O G D I E D
Shannon: F U C K I N G E L E C T R I C I T Y
Me: R E L I E F....are you stupid or something?
Q: How did you get over your last broken heart?
Cat: My heart cannot be broken, because there is nothing inside it but the mad inhuman lust to kill.
Shannon: I told the FBI he was a Russian spy. Haven't heard from him since.
Me: ........Oh, crap. I meant to say C O M F Y C H A I R. Can I change my answer?
Q: Describe your best body part.
Cat: Claws and teeth, baby.
Shannon: I've got to say Dimitri's ears are the jewel of my collection.
Me: My colon. It's the strongest muscle in my body.
Q: What's the first thing you think about in the morning?
Cat: Annoying my human.
Shannon: Lately? Assassinating the CEO of the local power company.
Me: The cat's tail, because it's usually shoved up my nose at dawn.
Cat: lol.
Q: If you had a sound effect, what would it be?
Cat: The wailing of countless damned souls being consumed by the Elder Gods.
Shannon: ....that's pretty good, I'll go with that.
Me: A twelve-second long, 80 decibel fart.
Q: What's your favorite animal?
Cat: Cats, of course.
Shannon: .........(looks at Cat thoughtfully) Cats.
Me: Dogs. AAARGH OW OW OW DAMN! OK! OK! Stop clawing me! It's cats! Cats!
Showing posts with label Shannon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shannon. Show all posts
Friday, September 9, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Attack of the Shannons
I walked up Shannon’s driveway, expecting the worst. Her call was terse (as she usually is), saying only that she had a problem, and to bring the cat. That was a bad sign.
I looked down at my faithful companion, calmly pacing along beside me. “Any idea what this is about?” I asked.
“None at all,” He replied, in his usual bass rumble. He may have been an ordinary-looking grey housecat, but he sounded like an angry 6’ 7” prison inmate. Only more violent.
I nodded to the guards flanking Shannon’s front door, who ignored me. However, they saluted my cat, and said, “Welcome back, sir.”
“Your courtesy is appreciated. Stand at ease.” He replied, looking smug.
As the guards ushered us in, I asked, “Why aren’t you guys that nice to me?”
One of them smirked. The other said, “You haven’t killed nearly as many people as he has.” The cat purred briefly.
As we walked into Shannon’s living room, the cat and I got the first of several surprises. First of all, a young black Labrador came bounding over, barking. He may be a nearly unstoppable furry ball of claws and hate, but my cat was still a cat, and he reacted just as you’d expect: by puffing up and hissing furiously. By the way, the hiss translated as “PREPARE TO DIE, vile hellspawn!”
Shannon came running over. “No, no, Cash! Bad dog! Kitty, don’t kill him!”
The dog backed off, confused. “New friend doesn’t want to play?”
I asked Shannon, “How can he talk?”
“Shut up! If you don’t say anything maybe your readers won’t notice. Cash, this is Kitty. Do what he says and don’t play with him, ok?”
“Yes, mommy.” His voice sounded like a 10 year old kid. He was a really cute dog, and looked cheerful and happy. The cat looked at him with disgust.
“Kitty, take the dog upstairs and play nice with him. Lucas and I have something to talk about.” Shannon was in full I-am-the-boss-so-don’t-fuck-with-me mode.
The cat grumbled, but did as she said. The dog followed, looking cheerful. Shannon said, grumpily, “Follow me.”
We walked into the next room, where I got another surprise. Standing, Sitting, Leaning casually against the wall, what have you; the room was full of pretty blonde women. I grinned happily. Now this was more like it!
Shannon shattered my happy illusions by saying, “Lucas, meet…..Shannon.” a wide sweep of her arm indicated the entire room.
I stopped smiling. “Uh?” I asked.
“They’re all named Shannon. And they’re all pissed at you for putting them in you blog without permission. Well, not that one over there—“ she pointed to an extra-pretty Shannon, sitting on the couch, surrounded by what appeared to be an entourage. “—that one likes publicity. She just wanted to meet you.”
I stood there, utterly at a loss. “Well what do they want me to do about it?”
Shannon said, “Stop using them in your blog.”
I’ve never pretended to be good with people. For me, a good week involves never leaving the house and not speaking to another living creature besides my cat. But I had to deal with this as best I could. I thought for a moment about what to say. This was clearly a complicated issue. Taking all possible points of view into account, I faced the roomful of Shannons and said, “No. Fuck off.”
I can only recall bits and pieces of the riot which followed. Everything was a blur of blonde hair, high heels, and VERY shapely legs. Fortunately, the Shannon who invited me and who actually knew me thought it was hilarious. Even more fortunately, she was a mob boss with a large personal security contingent. After she finished laughing she rescued me from the herd.
Shannon the mob boss (hereafter referred to as Shannon Alpha) and the other Shannon (hereafter referred to as Shannon India) were much more reasonable. Shannon India, as the name suggests, was a HUGE celebrity in India. Singing, Dancing, speaking Hindi, acting in rape scenes, she did it all. All she wanted was a disclaimer from me to make it clear to her fans she wasn’t involved in this blog. I therefore and forthwith present the disclaimer below.
I herefore and forewith ipso facto solemly and with gusto swear that this blog is the sole creation of myself. Characters in this blog are totally not fictional and completely real. Events depicted in this blog are completely 100% factual and are in no way the product of a diseased mind hopped up on caffeine and horse steroids. Any resemblance to any persons, places, animals, events, deities, alternate dimensions, psychic visions, drug-induced hallucinations, or sexual fantasies is totally not on purpose and probably just a figment of your imagination. FURTHERMORE, this blog in no way represents the true plans and agenda of Microsoft Corporation, and any discussion of “world domination” or “summoning the Elder Gods to earth to reign for a million years” is a fabrication and has absolutely no relevance to Microsoft’s actual plans, which involve the Elder Gods reigning for a BILLION years, not a million. AND EVEN FURTHERMORE AND STUFF, the character of “Shannon India” is not intended to represent the real-life film star Shannon Pumpersnatcher, currently residing at 101 E. Horndog Rd. , Los Angeles, CA 78654. Any suggestion that Shannon India is in fact Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose phone number is (919)213-9066, is completely ridiculous. This blog has no connection to Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose email is imfamousbeeyotch@comcast.com with password “sekrit”.
I looked down at my faithful companion, calmly pacing along beside me. “Any idea what this is about?” I asked.
“None at all,” He replied, in his usual bass rumble. He may have been an ordinary-looking grey housecat, but he sounded like an angry 6’ 7” prison inmate. Only more violent.
I nodded to the guards flanking Shannon’s front door, who ignored me. However, they saluted my cat, and said, “Welcome back, sir.”
“Your courtesy is appreciated. Stand at ease.” He replied, looking smug.
As the guards ushered us in, I asked, “Why aren’t you guys that nice to me?”
One of them smirked. The other said, “You haven’t killed nearly as many people as he has.” The cat purred briefly.
As we walked into Shannon’s living room, the cat and I got the first of several surprises. First of all, a young black Labrador came bounding over, barking. He may be a nearly unstoppable furry ball of claws and hate, but my cat was still a cat, and he reacted just as you’d expect: by puffing up and hissing furiously. By the way, the hiss translated as “PREPARE TO DIE, vile hellspawn!”
Shannon came running over. “No, no, Cash! Bad dog! Kitty, don’t kill him!”
The dog backed off, confused. “New friend doesn’t want to play?”
I asked Shannon, “How can he talk?”
“Shut up! If you don’t say anything maybe your readers won’t notice. Cash, this is Kitty. Do what he says and don’t play with him, ok?”
“Yes, mommy.” His voice sounded like a 10 year old kid. He was a really cute dog, and looked cheerful and happy. The cat looked at him with disgust.
“Kitty, take the dog upstairs and play nice with him. Lucas and I have something to talk about.” Shannon was in full I-am-the-boss-so-don’t-fuck-with-me mode.
The cat grumbled, but did as she said. The dog followed, looking cheerful. Shannon said, grumpily, “Follow me.”
We walked into the next room, where I got another surprise. Standing, Sitting, Leaning casually against the wall, what have you; the room was full of pretty blonde women. I grinned happily. Now this was more like it!
Shannon shattered my happy illusions by saying, “Lucas, meet…..Shannon.” a wide sweep of her arm indicated the entire room.
I stopped smiling. “Uh?” I asked.
“They’re all named Shannon. And they’re all pissed at you for putting them in you blog without permission. Well, not that one over there—“ she pointed to an extra-pretty Shannon, sitting on the couch, surrounded by what appeared to be an entourage. “—that one likes publicity. She just wanted to meet you.”
I stood there, utterly at a loss. “Well what do they want me to do about it?”
Shannon said, “Stop using them in your blog.”
I’ve never pretended to be good with people. For me, a good week involves never leaving the house and not speaking to another living creature besides my cat. But I had to deal with this as best I could. I thought for a moment about what to say. This was clearly a complicated issue. Taking all possible points of view into account, I faced the roomful of Shannons and said, “No. Fuck off.”
I can only recall bits and pieces of the riot which followed. Everything was a blur of blonde hair, high heels, and VERY shapely legs. Fortunately, the Shannon who invited me and who actually knew me thought it was hilarious. Even more fortunately, she was a mob boss with a large personal security contingent. After she finished laughing she rescued me from the herd.
Shannon the mob boss (hereafter referred to as Shannon Alpha) and the other Shannon (hereafter referred to as Shannon India) were much more reasonable. Shannon India, as the name suggests, was a HUGE celebrity in India. Singing, Dancing, speaking Hindi, acting in rape scenes, she did it all. All she wanted was a disclaimer from me to make it clear to her fans she wasn’t involved in this blog. I therefore and forthwith present the disclaimer below.
I herefore and forewith ipso facto solemly and with gusto swear that this blog is the sole creation of myself. Characters in this blog are totally not fictional and completely real. Events depicted in this blog are completely 100% factual and are in no way the product of a diseased mind hopped up on caffeine and horse steroids. Any resemblance to any persons, places, animals, events, deities, alternate dimensions, psychic visions, drug-induced hallucinations, or sexual fantasies is totally not on purpose and probably just a figment of your imagination. FURTHERMORE, this blog in no way represents the true plans and agenda of Microsoft Corporation, and any discussion of “world domination” or “summoning the Elder Gods to earth to reign for a million years” is a fabrication and has absolutely no relevance to Microsoft’s actual plans, which involve the Elder Gods reigning for a BILLION years, not a million. AND EVEN FURTHERMORE AND STUFF, the character of “Shannon India” is not intended to represent the real-life film star Shannon Pumpersnatcher, currently residing at 101 E. Horndog Rd. , Los Angeles, CA 78654. Any suggestion that Shannon India is in fact Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose phone number is (919)213-9066, is completely ridiculous. This blog has no connection to Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose email is imfamousbeeyotch@comcast.com with password “sekrit”.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Advice
For some reason, a lot of people have been emailing me asking for help lately. Maybe they think my cat’s a superhero or something, I dunno. At any rate, I finally gave in, and got together a panel of experts to give you the best advice possible.
Expert 1: An evil cat, brimming with homicidal rage, who can somehow talk.
Expert 2: A major crime boss, who pretends to be a mild-mannered housewife in New England.
Expert 3: A fat, balding, smelly loser with a raging case of Asperger’s and a freakishly large penis.
Q: I’m having trouble getting a job in this economy, and money is getting tight. My friends say I should go back to school, but I don’t want to take on any more debt. If I don’t find something soon I may have to move home with parents! What should I do? –Joe, 22, Atlanta
Cat: Jobs are for the weak. Real men live in the woods and eat anything too slow to escape.
Shannon: Deal Drugs. Somewhere other than my turf.
Me: Move home with your parents, succumb to major depression, lose all your money, get fat, and spend all your time reading 4chan and masturbating.
Q: I’m an aspiring republican presidential candidate. I need to find a way to stand out from the herd other than my policies or personality because I don’t have either. –Mitt, 56, Boston
Cat: One by one, challenge your opponents to single combat. Slay them all and eat their corpses while journalists watch. Just don’t try this with Sarah Palin.
Shannon: Propose the legalization of prostitution, gambling, drugs, guns, and shady loans.
Me: Have you considered a nice, sleazy sex scandal?
Q: A guy beat me up at school yesterday. My friends say I should get him back, but how? –David, 16, LA
Cat: Ambush him in a school hallway. After knocking him down, establish dominance by urinating on him. I advise marking the school and entire student body as your territory as well, to avoid future challenges.
Shannon: Kill his family.
Me: Tell him you’re gay and hot for him. He’ll never touch you again. Unless he’s gay too, in which case you are (literally) fucked.
Q: Help! My boyfriend cheated on me and I don’t know what to do! Should I dump him or forgive him? Hillary, 14, Ohio
Cat: Where is the problem here? This is normal behavior.
Shannon: Cut his balls off with a knife. Pickle them and put them in a jar on your desk.
Me: Obviously you’re not satisfying him in bed. Try dressing sluttier and new sexual techniques, such as anal, rimming, and pegging.
Q: A friend of mine told me that twilight sucks, but it totally doesn’t! Twilight is the best book ever! Tell him he’s wrong. –Jenny, 16, FL
Cat: (vomits noisily)
Shannon: What’s your address, Jenny? I have a package for you.
Me: What’s your address, Jenny? You sound cute.
Q: I’m president of the United States. I’m dealing with a lot of problems right now, but none of them are my fault! I just keep getting yelled at, no matter what I do. How do I get the haters to shut up? –Barack, 58, DC
Cat: If you were a true leader, you would beat them into a bloody pulp and feast on their flesh. You disgust me.
Shannon: Cry me a river, bitch.
Me: Have you considered not sucking?
Expert 1: An evil cat, brimming with homicidal rage, who can somehow talk.
Expert 2: A major crime boss, who pretends to be a mild-mannered housewife in New England.
Expert 3: A fat, balding, smelly loser with a raging case of Asperger’s and a freakishly large penis.
Q: I’m having trouble getting a job in this economy, and money is getting tight. My friends say I should go back to school, but I don’t want to take on any more debt. If I don’t find something soon I may have to move home with parents! What should I do? –Joe, 22, Atlanta
Cat: Jobs are for the weak. Real men live in the woods and eat anything too slow to escape.
Shannon: Deal Drugs. Somewhere other than my turf.
Me: Move home with your parents, succumb to major depression, lose all your money, get fat, and spend all your time reading 4chan and masturbating.
Q: I’m an aspiring republican presidential candidate. I need to find a way to stand out from the herd other than my policies or personality because I don’t have either. –Mitt, 56, Boston
Cat: One by one, challenge your opponents to single combat. Slay them all and eat their corpses while journalists watch. Just don’t try this with Sarah Palin.
Shannon: Propose the legalization of prostitution, gambling, drugs, guns, and shady loans.
Me: Have you considered a nice, sleazy sex scandal?
Q: A guy beat me up at school yesterday. My friends say I should get him back, but how? –David, 16, LA
Cat: Ambush him in a school hallway. After knocking him down, establish dominance by urinating on him. I advise marking the school and entire student body as your territory as well, to avoid future challenges.
Shannon: Kill his family.
Me: Tell him you’re gay and hot for him. He’ll never touch you again. Unless he’s gay too, in which case you are (literally) fucked.
Q: Help! My boyfriend cheated on me and I don’t know what to do! Should I dump him or forgive him? Hillary, 14, Ohio
Cat: Where is the problem here? This is normal behavior.
Shannon: Cut his balls off with a knife. Pickle them and put them in a jar on your desk.
Me: Obviously you’re not satisfying him in bed. Try dressing sluttier and new sexual techniques, such as anal, rimming, and pegging.
Q: A friend of mine told me that twilight sucks, but it totally doesn’t! Twilight is the best book ever! Tell him he’s wrong. –Jenny, 16, FL
Cat: (vomits noisily)
Shannon: What’s your address, Jenny? I have a package for you.
Me: What’s your address, Jenny? You sound cute.
Q: I’m president of the United States. I’m dealing with a lot of problems right now, but none of them are my fault! I just keep getting yelled at, no matter what I do. How do I get the haters to shut up? –Barack, 58, DC
Cat: If you were a true leader, you would beat them into a bloody pulp and feast on their flesh. You disgust me.
Shannon: Cry me a river, bitch.
Me: Have you considered not sucking?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Talking Cat 5: Kitty for Hire
I was reorganizing my pornography collection when I got the call.
I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID. Puzzled, I answered it. “Hello?”
The deep, James Earl Jones-like voice on the phone was unmistakable. “HUMAN!” Bellowed my cat. “I require transportation!”
For a moment, I simply stared at my computer screen in shock. I wasn’t seeing the image displayed there – in this case, a skillful fake of Will Smith nailing the president while John McCain watched in the background. (I don’t usually go in for gay porn, but this was a collector’s item). Instead, I was realizing that a) I hadn’t seen my cat for a week, b) that was why I felt so relaxed, c) he could use phones now, and d) where the hell was he?
“Cat,” I began cautiously, “where are you? And do I want to know what you’re doing there?”
He replied cheerfully, “I’m up at your friend Shannon’s! Remember her?”
“Ummm…..yes…..but I thought she was mad at us. You know, the dead bear and all.”
“Oh, that.” He meowed dismissively. “That was merely a smokescreen to fool the police. They have all her phones tapped. She emailed me last week at my website and said she had some work for me, so I caught the next bus up here. That reminds me, your buses are hives of filth and stupidity. I had to tear someone’s ears off for insisting that dogs are better than cats. You’ve never heard such whining.”
I thought, What the fuck?
I said, “What the fuck?”
He hissed over the phone. “Do not use filthy language with me, Human! Speak properly or not at all.”
I took a deep breath. “Ok. You have a website? What did Shannon want? Why did she need? And how can she talk to you?”
“Yes, it’s www.meatspin.com . I care not how Shannon can speak with me, but it’s nice having someone more manly than you to talk to. She’s much more my type.”
“More manly! She’s a petite blonde! With two kids! How is that manly?”
He snickered. “It’s not the plumbing, it’s the attitude.”
“Little shit,” I snarled at him. “When you get back I’m having you neutered again.”
As I was (angrily) talking, I typed in the URL of kitty’s homepage. I was greeted by a video. Music began playing. “You spin me round round baby right round, like a record baby, round round round…”
I recoiled in horror. “Agh! My eyes!”
The cat laughed evilly. “Ha! FOOL! Never trust information a strange cat gives you over the phone!”
I hastily closed the window. “Cat, stop fucking with me and answer my questions. Why did Shannon want you to do something for her?”
He purred happily. That was a bad sign.
Over the next half hour, I managed to drag the details out of him. The least shocking detail was that apparently, good-natured, quiet Shannon who I knew from high school had embarked on a career in organized crime. She was currently involved in a small scale mob war against a rival organization.
Then things got weird.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that the rival organization Shannon is at war with consists of escaped Russian circus animals?” I demanded incredulously.
And that was why Shannon wanted my kitty as a hit man. He was unmatched at murdering wild animals of any shape or size. It also explained why there was a large brown bear impersonating her last week.
I gave in. “All right, whatever. I don’t care. I don’t WANT to care. You and Shannon just do whatever and don’t tell me about it. I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow.”
“Wait, human! I haven’t told you the best part!”
Very, very cautiously, I said, “………..what’s the best part?”
“My first kill was a mountain lion! I couldn’t eat it, Shannon insisted we had to make it look like an accident. So we ran over it with her car a few times. It made the papers and everything!”
I hung up.
The next day, I picked up my blood-drenched kitty from Shannon’s. She didn’t bother with keeping up appearances this time. The armed guards all over the place were a giveaway. Shannon herself looked fairly ordinary except for the .45 on her hip and the freaking sword slung over her back, the hilt sticking over her left shoulder so she could grab it. She was expressionlessly sipping coffee from a mug that said “I can only help one person a day. Today isn’t your day. Tomorrow isn’t looking so hot either”. She was standing in front of some guy kneeling on her driveway with his hands cuffed behind him, begging for his life. I decided this wasn't the best time to say hello.
As we drove away, I heard a single gunshot. The cat purred briefly. “I told you she was more manly than you."
I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID. Puzzled, I answered it. “Hello?”
The deep, James Earl Jones-like voice on the phone was unmistakable. “HUMAN!” Bellowed my cat. “I require transportation!”
For a moment, I simply stared at my computer screen in shock. I wasn’t seeing the image displayed there – in this case, a skillful fake of Will Smith nailing the president while John McCain watched in the background. (I don’t usually go in for gay porn, but this was a collector’s item). Instead, I was realizing that a) I hadn’t seen my cat for a week, b) that was why I felt so relaxed, c) he could use phones now, and d) where the hell was he?
“Cat,” I began cautiously, “where are you? And do I want to know what you’re doing there?”
He replied cheerfully, “I’m up at your friend Shannon’s! Remember her?”
“Ummm…..yes…..but I thought she was mad at us. You know, the dead bear and all.”
“Oh, that.” He meowed dismissively. “That was merely a smokescreen to fool the police. They have all her phones tapped. She emailed me last week at my website and said she had some work for me, so I caught the next bus up here. That reminds me, your buses are hives of filth and stupidity. I had to tear someone’s ears off for insisting that dogs are better than cats. You’ve never heard such whining.”
I thought, What the fuck?
I said, “What the fuck?”
He hissed over the phone. “Do not use filthy language with me, Human! Speak properly or not at all.”
I took a deep breath. “Ok. You have a website? What did Shannon want? Why did she need? And how can she talk to you?”
“Yes, it’s www.meatspin.com . I care not how Shannon can speak with me, but it’s nice having someone more manly than you to talk to. She’s much more my type.”
“More manly! She’s a petite blonde! With two kids! How is that manly?”
He snickered. “It’s not the plumbing, it’s the attitude.”
“Little shit,” I snarled at him. “When you get back I’m having you neutered again.”
As I was (angrily) talking, I typed in the URL of kitty’s homepage. I was greeted by a video. Music began playing. “You spin me round round baby right round, like a record baby, round round round…”
I recoiled in horror. “Agh! My eyes!”
The cat laughed evilly. “Ha! FOOL! Never trust information a strange cat gives you over the phone!”
I hastily closed the window. “Cat, stop fucking with me and answer my questions. Why did Shannon want you to do something for her?”
He purred happily. That was a bad sign.
Over the next half hour, I managed to drag the details out of him. The least shocking detail was that apparently, good-natured, quiet Shannon who I knew from high school had embarked on a career in organized crime. She was currently involved in a small scale mob war against a rival organization.
Then things got weird.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that the rival organization Shannon is at war with consists of escaped Russian circus animals?” I demanded incredulously.
And that was why Shannon wanted my kitty as a hit man. He was unmatched at murdering wild animals of any shape or size. It also explained why there was a large brown bear impersonating her last week.
I gave in. “All right, whatever. I don’t care. I don’t WANT to care. You and Shannon just do whatever and don’t tell me about it. I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow.”
“Wait, human! I haven’t told you the best part!”
Very, very cautiously, I said, “………..what’s the best part?”
“My first kill was a mountain lion! I couldn’t eat it, Shannon insisted we had to make it look like an accident. So we ran over it with her car a few times. It made the papers and everything!”
I hung up.
The next day, I picked up my blood-drenched kitty from Shannon’s. She didn’t bother with keeping up appearances this time. The armed guards all over the place were a giveaway. Shannon herself looked fairly ordinary except for the .45 on her hip and the freaking sword slung over her back, the hilt sticking over her left shoulder so she could grab it. She was expressionlessly sipping coffee from a mug that said “I can only help one person a day. Today isn’t your day. Tomorrow isn’t looking so hot either”. She was standing in front of some guy kneeling on her driveway with his hands cuffed behind him, begging for his life. I decided this wasn't the best time to say hello.
As we drove away, I heard a single gunshot. The cat purred briefly. “I told you she was more manly than you."
Friday, August 5, 2011
Talking Cat 4: The Search for Kitty
One frantic internet search later, I was calling my old high school friend Shannon. As the phone rang, I tried to remember whether I'd stalked her or not. Horribly, I was drawing a blank. I couldn't remember much about her at all other than "blonde, pretty, and popular". Oh well, I'd wing it.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Shannon, this is Lucas. Remember me?"
"......sort of......"
"We hung out at that one place that one time, and I managed to offend nearly everyone in 15 minutes flat?"
"...oh yeah! Hi!"
Quickly, I explained the problem. "My cat can talk, and no one but me can hear him. he's coming to your house to help you with your warthog problem after he read about it on facebook. I'm worried that he won't stop with the warthog since he's evil. I need to drive over there, get the cat, and get back before he kills something. Or someone."
There was a long, long pause. "Hello?" I asked.
"Yes, um, I'm here. I, uh......am a little surprised. Are you, by any chance, in a mental institution right now?" She sounded very confused. Well, who could blame her? It was a lot to take in.
I tried to sound encouraging. "Not at the moment. They said I was no longer a danger to myself or others and let me out a while back. That doesn't matter, though. Look, all I need to do is show up there, grab the cat, and split. Nothing to it."
"Well......I could catch him for you."
"No! It's much too dangerous. Look, I'll be there in a few hours. Just stay alive!"
"Wait...." she said. "How's the cat going to get here so fast? I live hundreds of miles away!"
I gritted my teeth. "I made the mistake of leaving my credit card out. He bought a bus ticket."
Apparently, the mental image of my cat calmly waiting in line, presenting his ticket, and riding on a bus like nothing was wrong overwhelmed her, because she had nothing to say to that. I hung up, and ran for the car.
There's a lot of things that go through your mind when you're racing to stop your murderous cat from possibly killing an old high school friend. Unfortunately, I can't remember any of them, because I was distracted by this SMOKIN' hot brunette driving next to me. It was with a heavy heart that I turned off the insterstate and let her drive away.
I arrived at Shannon's after only a few hours. She met me at the door. "Lucas! It's ok, I caught him!"
I stopped dead and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God! Where is he? Did he hurt anyone?"
She smiled up at me (she was shorter than I remembered). "I have him in a cat carrier in the kitchen. Come on in."
She had a really nice house, but I had eyes only for my dear, sweet kitty, who was indeed in a cat carrier on the kitchen counter. I knew it was him; the murderous glare in his eyes and the howls of incoherent feline rage gave him away. "Kitty!" I shouted, not entirely joyfully. He paused in his attempts to rip the metal grate out and regarded me. "HUMAN!" he boomed, in his incredibly deep, bass rumble. "I require assistance! This bloody peasant has imprisoned me!"
"Hold on, cat. I'll be right there." I turned to Shannon. "I'm so glad nothing bad happened! How did you catch him?"
Shannon smiled charmingly. "Oh, I have my ways. Hey, since you're here, let's sit and chat a while. We can catch up. I put out some snacks."
"Uh....." Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Sure, I guess...." I walked over to where the snacks were.
"Great! I served my favorite, raw salmon and mixed nuts and berries."
"Uh?" I said. I was still trying to figure out why she was being nice to me. Something was going on. But what?
Shannon stood right next to me. A little too close, in fact. She was checking me out rather obviously. I had no idea how to respond to that. She said, "I can see you've gained weight....." She smiled again, showing her teeth.
The cat screamed at me. "Human! It's a trap!"
I froze, as suddenly, all the clues fell into place.
Her favorite foods were raw salmon, berries, and nuts. She was skilled in the outdoors. She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me.
Shannon was an Alaskan Grizzly Bear in disguise.
The bear sensed I had seen through its deception and threw off its disguise. A 5'0" slim blonde transforming into an 8'5" 1000 lb grizzly bear was quite a spectacle. I dove for cover behind the couch.
"UUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNG" said Shannon, and tore the couch in half. I scurried across the floor, still on my hands and knees, as the bear advanced on me.
"HUMAN! TO ME!" boomed the cat.
"What the hell does that mean?!?!" I shouted, as I threw a chair at the bear. I staggered to my feet and sprinted away.
"It means COME OVER HERE AND LET ME OUT!" bawled the cat.
"UUUURRRRRNNNNNNUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!" Bellowed Shannon, the chair bouncing off her head and shattering.
I sprinted to the kitchen, the bear in hot pursuit. I barely stayed out of reach of her huge claws. lungs heaving, I wrenched the cat carrier open.
The cat erupted from his prison. "PREPARE FOR DOOM, EVIL HAIRY ONE!" He yowled up at the bear.
"UURRNNN!" Exclaimed the bear.
The next few moments were so horrifying that I can only describe them using euphemisms.
The cat leaped onto the bear, tearing into her dinglehopper. The bear roared and tried to grab kitty's foofinsnortle, but missed. Kitty moved across the bear's back using his claws, latching on to her bumpus nubs. Mudkipz flew everywhere. Then kitty moved in, tearing out her tittlegrief. Mudkipz and liquidy Hydrosquirtle spewed across the room. I was so shocked I Hydrosquirtled myself. Then kitty took the bear down with a devastating bite to the bumpus nubs and finished her off with a merciless strike to the anterior rectal cavity. I staggered outside and yawned in technicolor into Shannon's beautiful flower bed.
The cat pranced out, covered in Mudkipz. "That's the way we did it in ancient Egypt, beeyotch," he snarled.
"Come on, cat, we gotta get out of here before the real Shannon gets home!"
"Ugh. Oh, very well." He jumped into the car with me.
Halfway home, the real Shannon called me. I was pretty out of it, so I don't remember much other than "dead bear in my house, you bastard, put you away for the rest of your natural life, blah blah blah." I tried explaining that it wasn't my fault, but she didn't want to hear it. I hung up on her after she called me a "blight on humanity". Even the cat thought that was a little much.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Shannon, this is Lucas. Remember me?"
"......sort of......"
"We hung out at that one place that one time, and I managed to offend nearly everyone in 15 minutes flat?"
"...oh yeah! Hi!"
Quickly, I explained the problem. "My cat can talk, and no one but me can hear him. he's coming to your house to help you with your warthog problem after he read about it on facebook. I'm worried that he won't stop with the warthog since he's evil. I need to drive over there, get the cat, and get back before he kills something. Or someone."
There was a long, long pause. "Hello?" I asked.
"Yes, um, I'm here. I, uh......am a little surprised. Are you, by any chance, in a mental institution right now?" She sounded very confused. Well, who could blame her? It was a lot to take in.
I tried to sound encouraging. "Not at the moment. They said I was no longer a danger to myself or others and let me out a while back. That doesn't matter, though. Look, all I need to do is show up there, grab the cat, and split. Nothing to it."
"Well......I could catch him for you."
"No! It's much too dangerous. Look, I'll be there in a few hours. Just stay alive!"
"Wait...." she said. "How's the cat going to get here so fast? I live hundreds of miles away!"
I gritted my teeth. "I made the mistake of leaving my credit card out. He bought a bus ticket."
Apparently, the mental image of my cat calmly waiting in line, presenting his ticket, and riding on a bus like nothing was wrong overwhelmed her, because she had nothing to say to that. I hung up, and ran for the car.
There's a lot of things that go through your mind when you're racing to stop your murderous cat from possibly killing an old high school friend. Unfortunately, I can't remember any of them, because I was distracted by this SMOKIN' hot brunette driving next to me. It was with a heavy heart that I turned off the insterstate and let her drive away.
I arrived at Shannon's after only a few hours. She met me at the door. "Lucas! It's ok, I caught him!"
I stopped dead and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God! Where is he? Did he hurt anyone?"
She smiled up at me (she was shorter than I remembered). "I have him in a cat carrier in the kitchen. Come on in."
She had a really nice house, but I had eyes only for my dear, sweet kitty, who was indeed in a cat carrier on the kitchen counter. I knew it was him; the murderous glare in his eyes and the howls of incoherent feline rage gave him away. "Kitty!" I shouted, not entirely joyfully. He paused in his attempts to rip the metal grate out and regarded me. "HUMAN!" he boomed, in his incredibly deep, bass rumble. "I require assistance! This bloody peasant has imprisoned me!"
"Hold on, cat. I'll be right there." I turned to Shannon. "I'm so glad nothing bad happened! How did you catch him?"
Shannon smiled charmingly. "Oh, I have my ways. Hey, since you're here, let's sit and chat a while. We can catch up. I put out some snacks."
"Uh....." Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Sure, I guess...." I walked over to where the snacks were.
"Great! I served my favorite, raw salmon and mixed nuts and berries."
"Uh?" I said. I was still trying to figure out why she was being nice to me. Something was going on. But what?
Shannon stood right next to me. A little too close, in fact. She was checking me out rather obviously. I had no idea how to respond to that. She said, "I can see you've gained weight....." She smiled again, showing her teeth.
The cat screamed at me. "Human! It's a trap!"
I froze, as suddenly, all the clues fell into place.
Her favorite foods were raw salmon, berries, and nuts. She was skilled in the outdoors. She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me.
Shannon was an Alaskan Grizzly Bear in disguise.
The bear sensed I had seen through its deception and threw off its disguise. A 5'0" slim blonde transforming into an 8'5" 1000 lb grizzly bear was quite a spectacle. I dove for cover behind the couch.
"UUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNG" said Shannon, and tore the couch in half. I scurried across the floor, still on my hands and knees, as the bear advanced on me.
"HUMAN! TO ME!" boomed the cat.
"What the hell does that mean?!?!" I shouted, as I threw a chair at the bear. I staggered to my feet and sprinted away.
"It means COME OVER HERE AND LET ME OUT!" bawled the cat.
"UUUURRRRRNNNNNNUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!" Bellowed Shannon, the chair bouncing off her head and shattering.
I sprinted to the kitchen, the bear in hot pursuit. I barely stayed out of reach of her huge claws. lungs heaving, I wrenched the cat carrier open.
The cat erupted from his prison. "PREPARE FOR DOOM, EVIL HAIRY ONE!" He yowled up at the bear.
"UURRNNN!" Exclaimed the bear.
The next few moments were so horrifying that I can only describe them using euphemisms.
The cat leaped onto the bear, tearing into her dinglehopper. The bear roared and tried to grab kitty's foofinsnortle, but missed. Kitty moved across the bear's back using his claws, latching on to her bumpus nubs. Mudkipz flew everywhere. Then kitty moved in, tearing out her tittlegrief. Mudkipz and liquidy Hydrosquirtle spewed across the room. I was so shocked I Hydrosquirtled myself. Then kitty took the bear down with a devastating bite to the bumpus nubs and finished her off with a merciless strike to the anterior rectal cavity. I staggered outside and yawned in technicolor into Shannon's beautiful flower bed.
The cat pranced out, covered in Mudkipz. "That's the way we did it in ancient Egypt, beeyotch," he snarled.
"Come on, cat, we gotta get out of here before the real Shannon gets home!"
"Ugh. Oh, very well." He jumped into the car with me.
Halfway home, the real Shannon called me. I was pretty out of it, so I don't remember much other than "dead bear in my house, you bastard, put you away for the rest of your natural life, blah blah blah." I tried explaining that it wasn't my fault, but she didn't want to hear it. I hung up on her after she called me a "blight on humanity". Even the cat thought that was a little much.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Talking to the Cat: Part 3
Talking Cat 3
I finally managed to make peace with my cat. I realized that, after I gained the ability to speak with him, I had been treating him more like a human. He's still a cat, just a talking, evil one. So I went back to Wal-Mart and made some purchases.
Later that day, he came in and, as usual, began berating me in his deep, booming voice. "FOOL! Why have you not prepared my evening meal? You know I DEMAND food when I return from slaughtering the weak --"
I pulled out my new laser pointer and clicked it on near his feet.
" -- PREY!" he shouted, and pounced. I moved the red dot away from him, slowly. He tracked it like a pedophile window-shopping at a kindergarden. Then he pounced again, slamming his head directly into the wall.
We continued like this for about an hour. Finally, he sat down and panted. "This prey continues to elude me. I must rest before taking my revenge upon it." I dropped a scratching post full of catnip in front of him. His eyes widened as he took the scent, and began vigorously trying to tear it apart. After another hour of doing cheetah flips in midair and yowling randomly, he flopped down, asleep. I grinned.
Ever since then, things have been going better. He'll even watch me playing games or watching TV sometimes, though I find the commentary to be disturbing.
On shooting games: "Use caution here, human. Prowl, if you can. Yes....yesssss.....sneak up behind him. Now the knife! YES! DIE, PREY! HAHAHAHA! I LOVE THIS GAME, HUMAN!"
On strategy games: "This bores me. Wake me when there's prey to kill." (falls asleep on keyboard).
On facebook: "I shall have my own facebook page, so that others may know of my greatness. You will create it for me. Typing is beneath me."
On porn: "Ugh, disgusting! Your females are hairless! And they have no tails! I must now vomit on your lap."
On furry porn: "That's more like it." (in retrospect, it should not have surprised me that the cat is into furry porn).
On Star Wars: "Boring, boring, boring....there's no blood." (sees Darth Vader) "I like this one."
On Empire Strikes Back: "Yeeeees.....die, Luke! DIE, WEAKLING SCUM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! VADER IS UNSTOPPABLE!"
On Return of the Jedi: "I want to eat the furry little things. They are small and helpless."
All in all, things are going better, except for one incident. He's figured out how to browse the web, but he can't type, only use the mouse. That limits the trouble he can get into. I bookmarked a bunch of funny cat picture sites for him and he looks at them for hours while I'm asleep. Anyways, one night he was reading facebook. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But then I saw what he'd been looking at: A friend form high school posted about a groundhog in her yard. Earlier I'd replied with a throwaway joke about how my cat would take care of it. He read that and tried to type a reply, but couldn't get it to work, so he deleted it.
And he wasn't in the house this morning. Oh........shit.
I looked around frantically, hoping he was just out murdering some birds, like usual.Then I found the note he left me, on the kitchen floor, crudely scrawled using one of my old pens: DEAER HOOMIN, GON TO HELPP YUR FREND SHANNN WIT GROWNDHG. B BAK N A WEEK. HATE U, KITTY
OH.......SHIT.
TO BE CONTINUED
I finally managed to make peace with my cat. I realized that, after I gained the ability to speak with him, I had been treating him more like a human. He's still a cat, just a talking, evil one. So I went back to Wal-Mart and made some purchases.
Later that day, he came in and, as usual, began berating me in his deep, booming voice. "FOOL! Why have you not prepared my evening meal? You know I DEMAND food when I return from slaughtering the weak --"
I pulled out my new laser pointer and clicked it on near his feet.
" -- PREY!" he shouted, and pounced. I moved the red dot away from him, slowly. He tracked it like a pedophile window-shopping at a kindergarden. Then he pounced again, slamming his head directly into the wall.
We continued like this for about an hour. Finally, he sat down and panted. "This prey continues to elude me. I must rest before taking my revenge upon it." I dropped a scratching post full of catnip in front of him. His eyes widened as he took the scent, and began vigorously trying to tear it apart. After another hour of doing cheetah flips in midair and yowling randomly, he flopped down, asleep. I grinned.
Ever since then, things have been going better. He'll even watch me playing games or watching TV sometimes, though I find the commentary to be disturbing.
On shooting games: "Use caution here, human. Prowl, if you can. Yes....yesssss.....sneak up behind him. Now the knife! YES! DIE, PREY! HAHAHAHA! I LOVE THIS GAME, HUMAN!"
On strategy games: "This bores me. Wake me when there's prey to kill." (falls asleep on keyboard).
On facebook: "I shall have my own facebook page, so that others may know of my greatness. You will create it for me. Typing is beneath me."
On porn: "Ugh, disgusting! Your females are hairless! And they have no tails! I must now vomit on your lap."
On furry porn: "That's more like it." (in retrospect, it should not have surprised me that the cat is into furry porn).
On Star Wars: "Boring, boring, boring....there's no blood." (sees Darth Vader) "I like this one."
On Empire Strikes Back: "Yeeeees.....die, Luke! DIE, WEAKLING SCUM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! VADER IS UNSTOPPABLE!"
On Return of the Jedi: "I want to eat the furry little things. They are small and helpless."
All in all, things are going better, except for one incident. He's figured out how to browse the web, but he can't type, only use the mouse. That limits the trouble he can get into. I bookmarked a bunch of funny cat picture sites for him and he looks at them for hours while I'm asleep. Anyways, one night he was reading facebook. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But then I saw what he'd been looking at: A friend form high school posted about a groundhog in her yard. Earlier I'd replied with a throwaway joke about how my cat would take care of it. He read that and tried to type a reply, but couldn't get it to work, so he deleted it.
And he wasn't in the house this morning. Oh........shit.
I looked around frantically, hoping he was just out murdering some birds, like usual.Then I found the note he left me, on the kitchen floor, crudely scrawled using one of my old pens: DEAER HOOMIN, GON TO HELPP YUR FREND SHANNN WIT GROWNDHG. B BAK N A WEEK. HATE U, KITTY
OH.......SHIT.
TO BE CONTINUED
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