I'm Older Than You in Cat Years
Yesterday was The One Called C.Apeshit's birthday (!) and the whole world raised its glassy eyes in a wide, unblinking stare to salute her.
She was duped by humans, poor thing. I can't imagine how dumb you must have to be to let that happen.
Several of her human friends put on strange clothing and sat in a clean suburban condo, waiting for her to arrive. When she did, they hid, and then all jumped out and yelled at her. This is what humans do to their so-called "friends." T.O.C.C. responded to this strange ritual by threatening to vomit. She powered through the nausea, however, upon being given a crown and a scepter for the event. I've heard tell that all T.O.C.C. truly needs to enjoy an event is a scepter (or a branding iron).
Then came the ceremonial presentation of the strange and neither useful nor expensive gifts. This is another place where you humans baffle me. The One Called AshBut took a box and glued many things onto it, which made T.O.C.C. squeal like a wine-soaked piglet. Then The One Called Rebecca presented three pieces of paper stapled together with jokes on it, a hammer, and a plastic bag full of plates. Hmmmmm. Finally, the One Called Bird played a strange song on the banjo about human litter boxes. T.O.C.E. was supposed to play along on the saw, but she left it inher car. She also bought T.O.C.C. a piece of cat-defamation, but dropped it in a puddle on the way out of the store. Stupid, Stupid, human.
Then there was a dance contest, punctuated by some ceremonial juice. At some point, everyone drew pictures of T.O.C.C. Yeek.
It's a good thing none of you humans knows when my cat birthday is.
Regardless of that, happy birthday, You Queen of Rage Blackouts. You often resemble a cat from my own mothership, cloaked in human form to do your extra-terrestrial feline research. For that, I salute you.
She was duped by humans, poor thing. I can't imagine how dumb you must have to be to let that happen.
Several of her human friends put on strange clothing and sat in a clean suburban condo, waiting for her to arrive. When she did, they hid, and then all jumped out and yelled at her. This is what humans do to their so-called "friends." T.O.C.C. responded to this strange ritual by threatening to vomit. She powered through the nausea, however, upon being given a crown and a scepter for the event. I've heard tell that all T.O.C.C. truly needs to enjoy an event is a scepter (or a branding iron).
Then came the ceremonial presentation of the strange and neither useful nor expensive gifts. This is another place where you humans baffle me. The One Called AshBut took a box and glued many things onto it, which made T.O.C.C. squeal like a wine-soaked piglet. Then The One Called Rebecca presented three pieces of paper stapled together with jokes on it, a hammer, and a plastic bag full of plates. Hmmmmm. Finally, the One Called Bird played a strange song on the banjo about human litter boxes. T.O.C.E. was supposed to play along on the saw, but she left it inher car. She also bought T.O.C.C. a piece of cat-defamation, but dropped it in a puddle on the way out of the store. Stupid, Stupid, human.
Then there was a dance contest, punctuated by some ceremonial juice. At some point, everyone drew pictures of T.O.C.C. Yeek.
It's a good thing none of you humans knows when my cat birthday is.
Regardless of that, happy birthday, You Queen of Rage Blackouts. You often resemble a cat from my own mothership, cloaked in human form to do your extra-terrestrial feline research. For that, I salute you.
posted by Charlene at 8:04 AM
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