Getting near the end. Not much toilet paper left on my roll, and now the cat has moved next door. Won't talk to me any more, at all, so I have to go it alone. Things are getting scary.
Have you ever wondered how big the biggest possible cookie could be if it was the biggest possible cookie yet you were completely sure that it contained cat hair? And maybe that ruined the whole deal?
I had a cat once, until it ate Mom. Then I had to get rid of it. I think. I still have the court papers around here somewhere. It was big news for a while, though I still find hair on my pillow sometimes.
I'll be trying out some new food for lunch to improve my bodily processes. Up until now everything I've eaten has turned to shit. If successful with this test of mine, I'll have to try it on the cat to be sure that it really works. So far he at least seems doubtful.
I've always wanted a wombat but couldn't afford the payments, and the cat also refuses to play dressup. (Yes, it's in his contract. He pointed it out, so that option is closed.) So now what? I'm still on square one, and completely wombat-free.
I've been appointed emperor for life, starting immediately, so let's look sharp, gang. From now on, someone else will be feeding the cat. OK then, next up on my list — who is going to be washing my toes from here on out?
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Possibly.
