Monday, December 17, 2007

triple mutated kitten heart goes boom



Lead poisoning? Aneurysm? Disco fever? The Apocalypse? Someone might've given it too many Tylenol pm's. Cat's OD on sleeping pills all the time. They are known for insomnia. That, and for taking the breath of Filipino men when they are napping. I smell foul play. Is the Friday thing a threat? God makes Friday? Did the Christians kill kitty because it chewed all the buttons off the telephone? Maybe fleas sucked it dry. Fleas are assholes. Their new plural spelling should be changed to flice, and lice changed to louses. I'm serious. You get two uncle Neds together and you get louses, not lice. The English language needs a good spring cleaning. It needs to get rid of all the dead kittens whose pacemakers were pieces of crap. Dead kittens depress me. The English language depresses me sometimes too. It's a good thing I am not depressed, or else I might be sad about these things: dead kittens dying from cardiac arrests, uncles who crawl around in hair and bite your scalp, missing telephone buttons, fleas. Maybe someone came up behind it and scared it to death. That's terrible. Kittens' hearts are tiny portions of bumblebee meat. You do not mess with bumblebees. They will explode on you with shrapnel severing any sympathetic notions of fuzzy buzzy floating gumdrops. Wake up kitty. Please? I'll make you milk. I'll name you Rex. I'll show you how to slowly torture then kill baby rabbits and eat everything but the white knowledge gumball catered for survival and sex. What are mornings without death souvenirs crunching underfoot anyhow? Barefoot too. With a hollow crunch of victory more pleasant than confetti'd feathers any day, more pleasant than pipe cleaners from the butts of tree rats, miniature snakes with their heads amiss, Filipino men out of breath, buried in sand boxes.
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1 comment:

Glacial Spain said...
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