Friday, October 22, 2010

All Cats are Drug Addicts

The cats will be angry, which will almost certainly lead to me death, but I’ve finally figured it out and want to warn you: all cats are addicted to drugs. They have managed to keep it secret for thousands of years, but alas, no longer!

Note about cats:  The Egyptians worshipped cats as gods.  The idea of cats being superior to humans must have been bred into them.  They’ve been thinking that they’re gods for way too long now, and we need to stop them.  On the other hand, if when I died I got a jar for each one of my organs, I would think I was a god too.

I’ve been watching my cat for a couple of days now in attempt to catch him accessing his secret stash.  Usually I look over and see something like this:


NO! Shut up. Not “awww.”

It’s a trap.  A 5000 year-old, perfectly developed, cat trap!

So the other day I was making my daily Easy Mac for lunch since I am both poor and much more capable of working the microwave than the stove. I put the macaroni in, and peered around the corner to find Kitteh asleep on the couch.
But he was just like...

“Dang it, you coy idiot,” I thought.

But I knew what he was doing.  That macaroni has to stay in the microwave for 2 minutes and 30 seconds.  Unfortunately, the stupid cat knows that there the is no way that I am going to break eye contact with food.  That gave him 2 minutes and 30 seconds to do this:


And then he could hide the stash, and go back to his fake sleeping all before my macaroni was done.  By “done” I mean the noodles are soggy enough for me to sprinkle onto them what Kraft suggests is cheese, and it will dissolve with relative ease.  (Unplanned rhyme!) These means I can ingest the processed noodles without encountering any large cheese clumps.  If you do get a cheese clump you have to stab it with your spoon or respective utensil until it disintegrates.  Easy Mac is a true delicacy indeed.

After burning myself once on the bowl as I do everyday, I grabbed the towel hanging on the oven, walked into the living room, to find Kitteh looking at me like this:

And I look back at Kitteh like this:

He knew that I knew his secret!

We stared at each other like this for a couple seconds as I realized that I should probably fear for my life.  Knowing Kitteh’s secrets could not have positive consequences.  Plus, nothing looks at you like this unless it is planning on killing you.  Without breaking eye contact, I managed to slowly inch back into the kitchen to hide and so that I could concoct a scheme that would get me out of the apartment without being killed my my high cat. I pictured one of three things happening next:

 Kitteh would get distracted by the PlayStation chord for the next few hours and then he was going to come into the kitchen and shiv me.
 Kitteh would go back into a drug-induced coma and sleep for the next 4 days before he would wake up, come into the kitchen, and shiv me.
Kitteh would not sleep or get distracted, and he was going to come straight into the kitchen to shiv me.

I’m not sure how to end this story because none of these three things happened.  I stayed in the kitchen for twenty minutes because not only was I afraid, but I found the kitchen floor to be a pleasant place to eat Easy Mac.


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