Psychic Disabilities

Two leggers are fascinated with anyone that appears to have powers beyond the norm. They are constantly searching for those who can read minds, foresee the future or communicate with the dead. In their constant quest to find the answers to their supernatural inquiries, they are perfectly willing to spend enormous amounts of money. They seem unaware that they should be spending their hard earned money on more important things.

Like cat toys.

Cat food.

Catnip.

Cat treats.

Farm raised squirrels.

However, even given this vital information, I am sure that some two leggers will continue to throw their money at any charlatan that professes to know the unknowable. So I have decided to kill two bird thingies with one claw.

I am now a psychic.

Send me your money and I will perform the supernatural act of your choice.

My mind reading ability is now telling me that you doubt the veracity of my psychic talent. It tells me that you are skeptical and require proof of my gift. I am even picking up vibe thingies that you believe that I am simply trying to trick you out of your life's savings.

See how good I am?

But for those of you who may still retain some suspicion in regards to my legitimacy, I will now offer undeniable proof. 

I will now read Ivan's mind.......

Okay, that was an ill-conceived idea. I got nothing except a sudden craving for cheese doodles.

Perhaps I should read the male two legger's mind........

Great, now I am craving cheese doodles and beer.

I would attempt to read the female two legger's mind, but I fear that cheese doodles, beer and new shoes would be a bad combination.

So I shall resort to predicting the future.

By reading my catnip leaves, I can with confidence predict that several events will take place in the very near future:
#1- A whiny gray tabby will be smacked repeatedly by an unknown assailant.
#2- At exactly 2:33 AM, a vase in a seemingly empty hallway will suddenly decide that life is not worth living and leap to its death.
#3- At exactly 2:34 AM, Ivan will be blamed for the death of the suicidal pottery and become the recipient of a massive wetting by the water squirty thingy.
#4- Arkansas will be voted the "weakest link" and sold to Yugoslavia for two pigs and a goat.
#5- Scientists will discover that Keith Richards died seven years ago and has only continued to perform as lead guitarist of The Rolling Stones due to a clever contraption involving a series of wires, pulleys and five hamsters.
#6-Scientists will also discover that stepping in a hairball on a daily basis prevents Athlete's Foot.
#7- The female two legger, in a fit of unwarranted optimism and trust, will allow the male to assist her in painting the exterior of my house green.
#8- The male two legger, while covered in green paint, gets hired by the Disney Corporation to perform as their newest character "Snuffy the Seasick Smurf".

I feel that some of you may still have doubts. I know that some of my predictions seem far-fetched.

But trust me, that Keith Richards thing is totally gonna happen.

Music of The Night

I have an announcement.

I am getting the band back together.

Early on in my blogging career, I started a band called "K-Oss  Theory". I even wrote a blog thingy about it called "Band For Life". (Click here to view.)

Unbelievably we received very few offers for lucrative record contracts, so I tabled the idea.

However, lately I have been re-pondering the subject and I have reached the conclusion that I am ready to try again. There are several factors that have gone into my decision to try again:

1. I have had two years of watching American Idol and America's Got Talent and these shows have made me realize that if the contestants on these programs are considered "talented", there is absolutely no way they can deny my gift for music.
2. The addition of Jaq provides our band with new musical depth.
3. I'm kinda bored and foresee an opportunity for music-based mayhem.

We will retain our original name of "K-Oss Theory" because "Hootie and The Blowfish" is still taken.

Tiger Lily will still play the role of Back-up Whiner and Artist Who Dies Too Young.

We have all been busy learning new instruments. Ivan has been teaching himself to play the "Cat Box Kazoo". He has become quite proficient, especially after burrito night. Jaq has turned out to be a prodigy at playing the keyboard (not the piano thingy, I am referring to the rack that holds keys by the front door). Tiger Lily plays smacksaphone. I have taken over playing brass. Brass candlesticks, the brass doorknocker and the brass springy thingy that keeps the door from hitting the wall all make beautiful music when played by a master such as myself.

With the addition of Jaq's voice, we have been able to expand our repertoire. I have taken several songs that my two leggers enjoy and re-written them in a more feline fashion. Here are a few examples:

Dust Bunnies in The Wind
Maul Me Maybe
Who Let The Squirrels Out?
Whiny Days and Mondays
Stalk Around The Clock
Shake Rattle and Stroll
I Will (lie in) Wait For You

I have also written a few original pieces:

Die Smurfs Die
Knock Knack Polka
Requiem for an Ex-Moth
The Boogitation Boogie
Sofa Slamdance

Of course, we'll be bringing back some of our old favorites like "Doug, Shut Those Damned Cats Up Before I Lose My Mind And Buy A Gun And Start Shooting Every Furred Thing In The Immediate Vicinity!" and "Doug, Tell Me Why We Have Cats Again!".  And let's not forget my personal favorite "The Mouse Munch Mambo".

Tickets to our first concert will be on sale as soon as I can figure out how to hack my two legger's PayPal account.

Unbearable

For any of you out there that may question my Tomhood, I will now put your doubts to rest.

I am the furry little angel of destruction that lays waste to all who cross me. Nothing that annoys me can be suffered to live. There is no irritant that can withstand my wrath.

All my enemies should justifiably quake with fear. All squirrel thingies should sleep lightly with one beady little eye open. Dog thingies should give my yard a wide berth. Any two leggers planning to break into my Kingdom with nefarious thoughts of larcenous intentions should give it another think.

I am the two-toned death that stalks the night. 

Last night I killed a bear.

That's right, you read correctly, I killed a bear.

Now I realize that many of my readers are very sensitive when it comes to the mistreatment of animals. Many of you are very active in different animal rescue agencies as well as proponents of anti-cruelty legislation. I have often read your protests regarding the way I treat Tiger Lily. I choose to ignore those protests, however, I assure you, I read them.

Just like Tiger Lily, the bear had it coming.

The bear in question was brought into my kingdom by the male two legger. It was a present for the female who had been feeling ill. I do not purport to understand this two legger custom of giving vicious carnivores to loved ones who are suffering, but there is much about two legger behavior that I find confusing.

This bear, named "Sniffles", was immediately adopted by the female and has held a place of honor in their bedroom ever since.

From the moment I saw Sniffles, I knew he had to die. His black lifeless eyes hid a soul so dark that it threatened to drain the spirit out of all those he encountered. Beneath the plush fuzzy belly beat a heart so black that the crucifix in the hallway kept falling in the middle of the night. Okay, that mighta been caused by Ivan slamming into the closet door, but I'm gonna blame the bear.

Every time I entered the bedroom, I could feel it watching me.

I suspected that when I was not in the bedroom, it mocked me and whispered in the female's ear, casting aspersions upon my character and blaming me for things I may or may not have destroyed. 

But mostly, Sniffles watched me. 

This posed a dilemma. How could I be expected to perform my mayhem causing activities under the constant scrutiny of "Sniffles the Snitch?"

I decided the bear must die.

It must die soon.

It must die cruelly and without mercy. 

I ordered Ivan to bring me the head of Sniffles. Ivan puffed himself up and entered the bedroom. And so I waited....... And waited........ And waited. Failing to hear any hissing or screeching, I peeked around the door only to find that Ivan was curled up next to Sniffles and taking an unauthorized nap. This was intolerable. I smacked Ivan and ordered him from the room. 

I ordered Tiger Lily to go whine at Sniffles in the hope that he would be driven to running away. However, after several minutes, I realized that she was sitting next to Sniffles swapping stories about Yours Truly. I smacked her so hard that she lost three whiskers and bolted from the room.

And Sniffles watched...

Finally, I realized that I must slay the bear myself. As the male prepared for bed, I was able to slink unobserved to the edge of the bed. Silently slipping under the bed, I cautiously crept to the other side, taking a few moments to wreak havoc on a nest of dust bunnies that had previously escaped slaughter. Lurking under the bed until the lights were extinguished, I patiently waited and suppressed the giggles of anticipation that threatened to betray my hidey hole.

Finally, the lights went out and it was time to make my move. Emerging from beneath the bed like a demon escaping the depths of Hades, I pounced upon the interloper. Wrapping one paw around his face to stifle his screams of terror, I punched the back of his head with my free forepaw while simultaneously eviscerating him with the repeated kicks of my hindpaws. After tearing out his fluffy white innards, I chewed on his face until I was sure that he was well and truly deceased.

All of this was accomplished in total silence only four or five tailspans from the peacefully slumbering two leggers. 

This morning, the two leggers awoke to a scene of great gore and carnage. The male cleaned up the mess. The female said not a word. Her cool attitude towards me leads me to believe that she suspects that I had a paw in the death of her bear.

That is fine with me. Perhaps after seeing what I am capable of, she will think twice before threatening me with the water squirty thingy.

Blown Away

Every year, from about the 2nd of July to around the 6th of July, the two leggers that live in the vicinity of my Kingdom lose their minds.

Normally they are conscientious, polite, and reasonably sane (my two leggers excepted). For the most part, there are few loud parties and very little yelling or fighting. From what I have observed on the talking box thingy, I live in what could safely be called a "quiet" neighborhood.

However, come July, these normally sedate individuals suddenly get the urge to go out and buy massive quantities of explosives and proceed to turn their backyards into war zones.

I have always been curious about this disturbing behavior. So, I decided to do some research.

I am now an expert on the history of firework thingies.

A very long time ago, (around the time my male two legger was born) a group of two leggers that wore pointy hats and ate rice with sticks, discovered that if they mixed a bunch of powdery stuff together, shoved it in old toilet paper rolls, put a string in one end, and then set the string on fire, it would blow up and annoy their neighbors.

Over the following centuries, they developed ever more creative recipes for the powdery stuff that made it explode with different colors and patterns. Some shot very high in the air and burst in flashy flowery displays, some simply made a big bang and shook their neighbor's house like Ivan jumping down from a cabinet top.

Around two hundred years ago, a two legger Native American named Jimmy Tenfingers went to the land of the pointy-hatted two leggers and was awestruck by their propensity for annoying their neighbors. However, in typical American fashion, Jimmy felt that the formula could be improved upon. Upon his return to America, he declared that the firework thingies were the most patriotic way of celebrating the birthday of our great nation.

At first his fellow Americans were skeptical. But after Jimmy (now known as Jimmy Eightfingers) made it clear that the firework thingies were best enjoyed with copious amounts of beer and other alcoholic beverages, the Americans saw the genius in his logic and took to the new tradition like Ivan to a cheese doodle.

Soon, Americans everywhere were blowing up their backyards and annoying their neighbors.

Jimmy Sixfinger's fame grew. Before long, he began to sell his firework thingies not just to celebrate Independence Day, it also became traditional to annoy your neighbors on New Years Eve as well. So now, twice a year, two leggers all over the world attempt to outdo each other by seeing who can make the loudest bang or the biggest boom.

By the time of his death, Jimmy Onefinger's legacy had reached every corner of the Earth.

In fact, it is in tribute to Jimmy that whenever one neighbor annoys another, they are invariably saluted by holding up a single finger.