Purple Monkey Balls is the SLUTCODE of the day for
I've been trying to keep this from you, but, now, I must confess. I'm a cat owner. OK, make that catssss. I have 2 of them, alright? It was never my idea to have cats.
One beautiful summer day, about 13 years ago, I was in the shower. The Duke took that opportunity to drop a lost, sick, runty little kitten into my pet starved 8 year old daughter's arms. Fucker.
That little whore of a pussy got knocked up, and we ended up keeping one of her kittens. I was outnumbered in the fucking "lets keep a kitten" vote.
See, cats make little horns pop out of my fucking head. They make me do naughty things like put tape on their paws and flick drops of water their direction just to see them freak the fuck out when they get hit with what they think is evil acid mystery water.
Oh fuck you PETA! These sneaky bastards try and drink from my morning cup of Kahlua and coffee with a paw fresh from the shitbox.
I know those bitches would kill me if they could figure out how. I've seen them staring at me with that look in their eyes. You know the one. The one that says, "You're so lucky I don't have opposable thumbs, you loathsome idiotic fool, or you'd be a red stain in my litter box by now.
They also do the rudest, most horrible, disgusting, annoying, continuous shitty thing I have to deal with that I did not sign up for.
The puking. All the puking! All the GOD. DAMN. PUKING!!
What is it with puking pussies? Seriously? Have we ruined kitty's digestive tract with processed kibble in the shape of little fish that smells like fermented shit and fryer oil?
Is this revenge for depriving them of the rotting roadkill, lizard tales and long strands of dental floss they long to eat?
In the middle of the fucking night, after I've finally fallen asleep, I'm jolted awake by that unmistakable sound. The noise that only comes from the belly of the beast and the seventh realm of hell.
HORK HORK HORK HORK HORK HORK.
How in the hell can something that weighs 9 pounds make that kind of a sound?
I jump out of bed only to find the cat's head spinning completely around with puke flying across the carpet at the speed of light.
My eyes are wide as saucers, my hand clasped tightly over my threatening-to-gag mouth, and she daintily licks her lips, looks at me like, "what!?", and then sashays past me as if the fucking hurl holocaust didn't just happen in the goddamn hallway.
Did I mention? IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT!
There are certain things I don't mind doing on my hands and knees at 3 a.m. Cleaning cat puke it not one of them.
I took the puker to the vet, only to find out they don't know why she throws up.
Why thank you Mr. High Priced Vet. Thank you for letting me enjoy my day chasing, tackling, and trying to stuff a freaked out pussy into a carrier. After taking time to stop my wounds from bleeding, I also had to listen to her pathetically wail during the 45 minute drive to your office. All so you could tell me, "Umm, I don't know why she is puking all the time."
That? was just fucking super!
Now, go give CB some love for being the Hostess of this little game.