A couple years ago, I went with Mom to visit Mary on her farm in Arkansas. Whaddayaknow if Magic wasn't still alive and kicking? And maiming. And mayhemming and hawing. Mom had warned me about that cat. Magic sat across the room and glowered. Magic made me very uncomfortable, but after a while, I sort of forgot she was there. I reached down at one point to tie my shoe and barreling across the wide open carpet came a bristling furball tipped with poison-tipped fleschettes in the form of one Magic. Damned cat. It's probably still alive, too, being too mean to die...
Someone I used to know had an evil female cat named Rascal. Rascal was known for eviscerating hapless visitors to the home with disembowelment skills to rival those of a sloth. Rascal was apparently bonded to one person only, and everyone else was fair game. You might have guessed Rascal was free to terrorize nature indoors and out. One day Rascal's person was big&pregnant&muy hormonal when some crazy bitch came to her door with the remains of Rascal plastered over the inside of a clear plastic bag, having found Rascal in the road. The woman said "Is this your cat?" Who says there aren't good neighbors around these days???
7 comments:
Sounds jolly. Not sure I'd be up for the task of detaching said feline from the road, I'd have probably just taken a picture instead.
My neighbours love me too. :)
Charming Chaz.
Maybe she keeps a spatula in the boot for just such occasions.
That is truly weird.
Just goes to show there are feral cats living in homes... I HATE those friggin things...
Zelda - I thought so.
Old NFO - Yeah. True. Possibly as evil as feral chihuahuas.
Yeah, I hate these indoor feral cats too. A girlfriend of mine used to have one and I've often wants to throw it out the 13th floor balcony where she lived. I hated that cat.
As for my sister's cat, every time I'm at her house and stay over, I wake up with him sitting on my chest and rubbing is nose against mine. I love that cat.
There's an x-rated funny in there somewhere; I just won't go there. Heh.
It's those bad kittehs that give good kittehs a bad name. My ex had an evil cat who routinely peed on my belongings. Her favorite thing was to piss in my boots or on my down jacket, and that b**** of a cat somehow knew when it was going to be horrifically cold out side - and she'd pick that day to do it!
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