Sweet Mother of God… I’m on day 3 of having this fucking cold. I have been reduced to smoking menthol cigarettes. They are truly the gross, but smoking my normal Camels just incites vicious coughing fits, and that is about as much fun as smacking myself in the stones with a bal peen hammer.
But enough belly aching about my stupid cold…
The balcony oratorio continues with some zeal this evening. It seems these people just don’t get the concept that most people sleep at 1:42 in the morning. You’d swear it was noon the way these ignorant twits blather on.
The main event tonight is a little more on the banal side. It appears as if someone’s cat has gotten loose, and joyfully I get to hear all the minutia of its impending recapture. I find myself at the window trying to see the commotion. Try to imagine me rubber necking as my idiot neighbours attempt to collect the fugitive feline. I do my best to contact the furry little beast using telepathy…
“Run Kitty… These people are white trash… run for your life… There is a better place for you… Run… Run you furry little bastard…”
Apparently I made a connection. The cat was off like a shot. This caused a furious tirade of cursing. That made me smile. It managed to escape the tyranny of the incredibly stupid. No more kitty concentration camp, just freedom. Eat some birds my little friend… Let their tiny feathers fill you with happiness.
With a little luck some decent person will find the cat before animal services does.
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