Our dirt bikes bring all the boys to the yard. Damn right, they're better than yours.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

I fucking hate cats

I'm sleeping. Hot chicks fill my dreams with magic and flesh. I look one in the eyes, and it says "MEEEEEEEEERRRRRROOOOOOOOOEEEEEEERRRRRR mMmmmm RRRRRRRROOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRr"
"Pardon me?" I say politely.
Opening my eyes, I realize the stupid, stupid loud noise is still going on. At first, I think it's in the basement, which is especially scary, considering the last time I heard it, it was coming from a hot woman, and there shouldn't be any of those in the basement. 
I get up, put my robe on, and look out the kitchen window. Next to my garden---my lovely, lovely garden, our neighbour's cat---a fat, friendly, neutered cat---is staring curiously at one of the neighbourhood strays, who says, with no subtlety whatsoever in response: "MRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEOOOOOOrrrrrrrrmmmmrrreeeeemmmmmmrrroroororoor."
She continues to say this as I rush to the back door. I walk down our back steps into the driveway, hiss at them, pick up a chunk of leftover wood from our new deck, and throw it after the stray, who has already run away. It clunks down impotently somewhere in the rasberries at the end of the driveway. 
I go back to bed. 
6:30 am rolls around, and in the back yard, outside the bedroom window, I hear "RRmmmmmeeeerrreooooorrreeooeoeoeoeOOOROORRRRRRROOOOOOOEERRRRR."
I am enraged. I love sleeping. At night, it's one of my favourite things. And waking up infuriates me. My blood pressure surges. I go to the back door again, rustle frantically through our back closet for something to throw. My hand brushes over a trailer hitch, but that's much too heavy. An old bike kickstand jumps into my mitt, and I squeeze it roughly, throwing open the back door so hard it bangs the wall. On the shed, the neighbour's cat is again looking down on this stupid homeless garbage creature, as it continues its sermon on its impetuous need to have a cat's penis in its body.
My cave man brain emerges, and with the power of grayskull, and with murder on my mind, I throw the kickstand perfectly, hitting my neighbour's shed with a thud so loud that every cat in the world must have jumped a foot. The stray cat flies away at the speed of sound. The neighbour's cat looks at me, slightly offended, and emotionally hurt.
back in bed, my girlfriend rolls over to face me and says "Hi, crazy."
"Didn't you hear that cat?!" I ask, still pretty worked up.
"No. Shut up and go to sleep."
Ten minutes later, the cat conversation begins again. I put my pillow over my face and hope for death. 
I hate cats.