Listen – I was zooming through the house last night; climbing bookshelves and shredding chair legs, you know, the usual low-impact cardio that keeps my engine running while I wait for some kindly teenager to march home and leave the barn door wide open for me to dash back outside- you know, a typical quiet evening, WHEN, to EVAone’s horror, Mrs. Whatsername, put down her Vodka Tonic and informed me that I “need a boyfriend.” That this would, somehow, help me “calm me teh frack down.”
Or somefing like that. Hard to tell, what with all her slurring…but now I have to know – Is that true? would Love make me dream dreamy dreams of stud muffin mancats? Would love make me go so whispy-eyed and soft focus that i forget to devour teh fishy or knock over the flowers?
Would Love put my Crazy Pants NRG to better use?
Cuz I have to admit, I do find this picture intriguing. He is verrah handsome, isn’t he? Mr. Wide Collar, there, wif his older and wiser mancat reading glasses. I’ll bet he was her Professor – Caterature or PawlySci, probably, and he wowed her wif his superior intellect and constant name-dropping of famous cats he’d met…
“really?’ she’d gush, “Lunch? at the White House? wif Socks?!’
Then he’d take a real interest in helping her broaden her horizons…he’d make vague promises of taking her on a “international conference” that really only ended up taking place in the dumpster behind teh library. Then, after a few of these private “colloquiums,” he suddenly wasn’t so interested in her “thesis” anymore. Suddenly became aloof; started grading a little harsher than was fair; suddenly became very difficult to corner. Like he was avoiding her vacant yellow-eyed stare or something.
But it was not like she was going to tell the Dean or the Administration or anything. she just wanted one more night of love! just like they used to have, the two of them, together! Once more, she promised him, and then she’d gracefully bow out of his life. So now she’s waiting for him to show up. Wif her pet piraña and teh sweet and dainty Derringer pistol she has tucked into her pretty little purse, specially for teh occassion.
“Oh. He’ll come,” she tells herself.
Teh pictures she promised to send to his wife, of their night of “research” should do teh trick.
Now, see how wrong you are again, Mrs. W? As intriguing as Love and Boyfriends and Walking Fishies may be, I really am a little too bizzy for that kind of nonsense. I have trees to climb. If Professor LeisureSuit wants to follow me up a tree, we can talk. But i do plan to leave before things get too collegial. and I get to eat teh flowers.
Good Luck, Blue Kitteh, where eva you are! Cod knows you will need it. And fanks to imgur.com for the great photo!