SLUTTY CAT

Alright, lemme try and explain this so it makes some kind of sense.  As you all know I have five cats; 3 males and 2 females.  The oldest one is female and she is either REALLY horny or just REALLY friendly.  I get the impression that she isn’t interested, sexually that is, in the opposite sex of her own feline species but rather is ACTUALLY sexually attracted to humans; particularly me.  Now I could just be imagining this but I don’t think I am.  I have concluded that my cat wants my dick….

            This reason I say this is because when I pet her along her back her ass end will start to rise.  Now having been around cats for some time now I know this is pretty normal behavior.  The problem is that the more I pet her down her back the higher her butt goes and her tail shoots straight up exposing her “goods.”  She will also start drooling and purring really loud.  This may all seem normal to you but to me it’s not.  It’s a sign that she wants it and wants it BAD. 

            I think the reason I haven’t made a move on my cat yet is because I can’t quite get the logistics of it down of how to bang my slutty cat.  My human penis would simply destroy my cat’s vagina and likely kill her; however, my pinky finger might not.  I have measured my finger and guesstimated the vaginal canal width and depth of my slutty cat using visual observation.  I’m assuming that my pinky, while still very large in cat penis terms, might fit.  In addition, my slutty cat has the benefit of having given birth to a litter of kittens at one point in her life.  This means her vagina has been stretched and made more elastic than a virgin cat’s. 

            I have caught myself staring at my slutty cats little grey cotton ball vagina on several occasions and am very tempted to just pinky that little horny bitch.  The question keeps arising in my mind, however, as to what her response would be.  Elation at the fact that her much anticipated dream of banging a human has finally come true?  Shear terror and much claw slashing and biting at having been fingered by a human, not to mention the inevitable awkwardness from then on between us?  I think the unknown outcome is the biggest deterrent to me making a move.  Unfortunately, I guess I’ll never get up the nerve to give my pussy’s pussy a try.  Fucking tease!

           

PROFESSIONAL QUADRIPLEGIC CAT JACKER

As you all know I have five cats.  My goal was to have six because that is the lagrangian point between the two sides of being the crazy cat lady (or guy in my case).  If you go to a party and say you have five or seven cats people look at you crazy, yet, if you say you have a “half-dozen cats”; now you’re trendy and everyone wants to get to know you.  As I am a cat enthusiast, I always fantasized about being a rare cat breeder.  One of the most expensive cats is the Asher cat that goes for about $28,000.   I would need to have a viable cat for breeding and selling the babies to make my money back and then a surplus.  I wouldn’t want to be in the hole for 28K just because of a cat; it’s an investment.  You figure you sell the baby Asher cats for $7,000 a piece (which is a steal by the way) and in one litter you’ve broken even.  So about a year ago I went and bought my Asher using the money I got by selling my wife to a Saudi Arabian sheik.  I’ll tell you what; I had tears in my eyes cause this cat was so gorgeous.  I mean, if I was a cat; I’d fuck that cat.  Hell, I’m a human and I wanna fuck that cat cause it’s so bad ass!  Anyways, so I immediately started looking around for someone with a female Asher cat that I could mate my male cat Roscoe with.  Despite the Asher breed being very rare I lucked out and found a woman in Madagascar with a female Asher.  We exchanged information and she was going to buy a ticket to meet in a central location, like France, to let the two cats bump uglies, when a tragedy happened.  I was doing the dishes and had turned on the garbage disposal to chew up the refuse that had collected in the drain.  I always carry a laser light pen in my left pocket for fun time with Roscoe.  The laser pen fell out of my shirt pocket and into the drain while the disposal was going.  The laser light pen was shooting dots all over the ceiling wildly as the pen was being tossed and mangled inside the disposal.  Roscoe, of course, went crazy chasing it and leaped into the air to get the dots that were peppering the overhead like machine gun fire.  While he was hovering in the air over the sink in mid leap, the pen had reached its failing point in the blades of the disposal.  It exploded and laser pen shrapnel came flying out of the sink drain.  I was hit just under my right eye with little injury, but Roscoe wasn’t so lucky.  He took a pen shard to his neck and fell to the ground paralyzed and near death.  A year later, Roscoe is fine but still unable to use any of his limbs and his little cat penis is completely flaccid.  So, even if I wanted to breed him with a female he not only couldn’t mount the other cat, but he wouldn’t even be able to “get it in”.  I sat there deep in debt due to the initial purchase of Roscoe and the subsequent money spent on surgeries after the spinal injury.  I realized what I would have to do.  I needed to jack this cat off.  The problem is that, well, I’m a working man.  My hands are too rough and tough; I’d just end up ripping poor Roscoe’s dick off mid stroke.  I needed someone with dexterous hands, someone that could jack this cat off not too hard, but not too soft.  I also remembered how fast cats fuck.  They are like jack rabbits.  So now I needed someone who had hand dexterity AND speed.  Hmmmmm…. I KNOW!! A violinist! That’s it! They’re perfect for it.  If you’ve ever heard a violinist play Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” you’ll understand why they are ideal cat masturbators.  So I hired Guinness World Record holder David Garrett to be that man.  I now have David milk Roscoe for his white man syrup about every week.  Once I have the tomcat juice I use a taxidermy stuffed Serval cat set in the mounting position to act as Roscoe’s stand in.  In the stuffed cat’s penis I have inserted an injection nozzle which I fill through a hole in its rear end.  Then I bang the shit out the female Asher cats with the stuffed cat busting a nut at the precise moment and voila!  Cat impregnation!  I’m happy, David Garrett is happy, and Roscoe is definitely happy.  It’s a win, win, win situation.

Side Note: The use of "Lagrangian point" isn't exactly correct as it is used in physics to describe the gravitational equilibrium points within the Earth, Moon, and Sun system where if they were out of those spots would potentially start being pulled in towards one another.  I use it, loosely, to describe the equilibrium point in between the two social outcast boundaries of cat lady/guy status.  If you care.

CAT SUIT COMMANDER

I noticed something while my skull was getting molested by Suki, at the barber shop, yesterday (post "Suki's S&M Special" from 8SEP2011).  With all those guys she was “servicing” there were mounds and mounds of hair on the floor.  I asked Suki what she did with all that hair, if anything.  She said she takes it home and makes luxurious garment bags, hats, etc., out of it all.  She takes the hair, puts it on a spinning wheel and weaves it into thread like you would sheep’s wool or cotton.  With that hair thread she then crochets it into those items and sells them on Ebay for a shitload of money.  After hearing that I thought to myself “Damn, all that cat hair, from my five cats at home, that is coating the couches, chairs, floor, and every-fucking-thing else, I could put it to good use as well, just like Suki.  So that night when I got home I took my Dirt Devil portable vacuum and started sucking up every bit of cat hair I could find.  There were 12 Home Depot buckets full of cat hair when I was done.  At that point, I was fucking siked.  My brain was reeling with ideas of what to do with all that cat wool.  At that very moment all five of my cats came screaming into the living room where I was standing.  The first one, being chased by the second, who was being pursued by the third, and the fourth and fifth galloping behind the whole group as if motivating them to go even faster!  The first and second cats jumped onto the glass table in front of the couch knocking over a vase full of water and flowers which smashed on the floor, soaking the carpet.  The third and fourth cats who were hot on their heels couldn’t stop in time before hitting the cascade of water, from the vase, flowing off the table.  They freaked out and veered in all directions, knocking over my T.V., which promptly got smashed, they tore a hole in my couch and knocked over various other items.  Finally, the fifth cat, the last in the line, sees the chaos ahead that the other cats are in the midst of causing, and she panics too!  She hurtles herself out of the way of the mess and directly towards my face, and with its claws, uses my cheeks and forehead as a spring board for getting out of the way, tearing deep gashes in my flesh.  I howl in sharp pain! 

I was so furious at the lack of discipline in my felines that I spent the entire night manufacturing a suit made, completely, out of the fur I had accumulated earlier.  It was perfect!  It fit like a glove!  I was now ready to exert my power as the Overlord of the Cats.  I vowed, out of spite, to run the household as a you would a totalitarian regime.  I didn’t disappoint; the next morning I choke slammed the first cat I saw to set the tone for how things were now gonna be.  The other cats came in after hearing the first cat getting fucked up and started talking their usual shit in an attempt to intimidate me!  I kicked the second cat straight in the teeth and then promptly round housed the third.  By this point, the fourth and fifth ones had gotten the point and quickly fell in line.  I had reestablished my dominance as the head Cat in my household.  “Fuck these cats!” I said to myself,” I’m the king dick now!!”   

LAKE SHITTICAKAPUPUPEEPEE

I have always had aspirations of owning a farm.  For now, though, I am relegated to my back yard.  I have set up a small garden area where I grow squash, tomatoes, radishes, etc.  Next to that I have several rows of corn.  I used to use a Native American technique which is to add a small fish (a guppy or something similar) to the seed hole thus introducing a burst of nutrients from which the plant can feed as it grows.  Kinda like the original Miracle Gro.  This, however, started to get a little tedious as my garden grew larger; plus I was decimating the population of my kid’s goldfish bowl as going back and forth to the local pond for more guppies got to be a pain in the ass.  So, I had to come up with a solution.  “D’uh!” I said to myself.  I could just go and buy some fertilizer or manure from the garden shop in town. 

            The manure worked out great but it started getting pricey.  Then one day, I was sacrificing butt babies to the porcelain god, when I flushed the toilet, it clogged, and started overflowing.  “Aw fuck!”  I shouted as the toilet gushed forth like a geyser pouring onto the floor of the bathroom and immediately out the door.  The chocolate river ebbed and flowed through the hallway, then across the hardwood of the living room on its way to the kitchen.  I panicked and grabbed one of my cats, knocking it unconscious by whacking it up against the wall and dropped it in front of the tide of turds as an organic sandbag to slow it, but it was no use.  I figured if I added more cats I could halt the rush of shit water so I started whacking cats against the wall like their species depended on it.  Five unconscious shit soaked felines later and the deluge still just continued right around them.  I thought to myself “If I only had more cats! Fuck!”  The surge of fecal fluid trekked across the glued down squares of linoleum flooring in the kitchen and headed for the screen door in the back.  I could only sit there in disbelief as the river of rank finally exploded through the mesh of the screen door leaving solids on one side and a liquid colon cocktail on the other to flow down the steps.  Finally, one of my cats regained consciousness and, remembering it’s emergency flooding training, ran to the bathroom, gripped the toilet input water valve wheel with its teeth and rightee tight-eed it.  The flow at the bathroom end had ceased.  The business end of the tsunami of shit, however, concluded its path of destruction in my garden by flooding it completely.

            All I could do was let the waters of the newly formed Lake Shitticakapupupeepee drain into the ground over the next couple of days.  I threw my hands up in frustration and avoided the garden for a full week.  Upon coming back to till the soil, rip out dead plants and start the garden fresh, I noticed that not only were my plants not ruined; they were flourishing.  The squash and radishes, despite a brown hue, looked amazing.  The tomatoes looked like plump ebony goodness and the corn like…well; it looked like really good corn; with corn on it.  That’s when it hit me!  Why the fuck am I paying for manure when I’ve got it for free right here!?  In fact, apparently, my shit is so bangin’ that if I can get a garden to look this good, I could even sell this stuff.  So that’s what I did; I sold it.  I started eating a loaf of white bread and a multivitamin every day then followed it with a Metamucil chaser to speed things along.  I was a human fertilizer assembly line.  I had it down to three hours between shits and thanks to all the white bread in my diet it came out in perfectly firm logs ready for plastic wrapping.  I call it Rusty’s Miracle Loaf.  They are selling like hot cakes and on top of that I get Government tax breaks for falling under the Green Business Initiative.  So, I get paid and veggies get made.  Ain’t America great?!

I WISH MY CATS HAD GLAUCOMA

                                                                                 

I have five cats, yes, you heard me…five!  They used to be awesome and my goal was to have six cats so I could say at parties, “I’ve got a half dozen cats.”  Cause if you have five you’re just the crazy cat guy or lady, but if you have a half dozen, now you’re trendy and hip.  So now that I’m getting sick of these little bastards, after 10 years of having them, I don’t know how to get rid of them.  I look at my cats, condescendingly of course as I always do, and they look pretty fuckin’ healthy.  I don’t think they are ever gonna die, hell, they might even out live me at this rate.  They aren’t like outdoor cats that have to struggle to find food and fight other cats for territorial supremacy and mates, living a stressed out life. They are lazy, ungrateful, and spoiled cats each with their own belly fat that sways as they walk.  They look fit as a fiddle.  You’d expect the signs that a house pet is getting old to be, like, glaucoma in both eyes, teeth falling out, fur manging and falling out, limping and in pain, etc.  These fucking cats are doing back flips!  That’s like going to your Grandpa’s house expecting to see a decrepit old man and you walk in on him banging Miss Oklahoma 1999 while flexing in the mirror like Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.  I’m not sure what to do?  I want to smother them with a pillow or drown them or shoot them in their cute little furry fucking faces with a shotgun but I don’t have the heart to do so.  I thought about giving them away but I’m too damn attached to them.  It’d be like giving away your kids, you want to, but you’d feel bad for a little while after the fact.  So now, I’m basically just stuck waiting for them to die.  I find myself sitting on the couch petting them while they purr away on my belly, saying “why won’t just die you little son-of-a-bitch, just die already!”  Why couldn’t I have five gerbils instead?  Their life span is like 2-4 years.  When you’re done sticking them up your ass, just break their neck and throw their little shit covered ass in the trash.  Then get a new one.  I used to go through like 10 a week back in the day.  I’d buy um’ by the bushel.

Side note: A cat’s life span is approximately 12-14 years.  A gerbil’s life span is approximately 2-4 years.  A gerbil’s lifespan in my house … 30 minutes to an hour depending on if he scratches my colon or not.