Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Web of Deceit

Eight leggers are revolting.

No, I don't mean that they are disgusting, even though they kinda are in a deliciously crunchy kind of way.

I mean that they are actually revolting.

They have decided that they no longer wish to live under the benevolent dictatorship that is my Kingdom.

It seems that the Bathroom Spider has been watching too much BBC America lately and found himself inspired by the two leggers in Scotland attempting to gain independence from the United Kingdom.

I have allowed the Bathroom Spider to exist in the bathroom under three conditions:
1. That he continue to creep out the male two legger whenever possible by staring him down while he bathes.
2. That he spin webs across the doorway while the two leggers sleep, causing them extreme panic in the morning when they walk through the web.
2. That he never crosses the threshold between the bathroom and the bedroom.

The former Bathroom Spider broke rule number three once and ended up paying the ultimate price for his insubordination. His trial and subsequent execution served as both an example to future generations and a tasty snack for Ivan.

I began to notice signs of unrest last week.....

First, I heard an inordinate amount of snickering coming from the bathroom. This did not particularly annoy me at first. I may be a tyrant, but I understand that even eight leggers occasionally need the companionship of their own kind. Quite frankly, the thought of a sleepy two legger freaking out because he inadvertently interrupted a spider frat party amuses me. However, the snickering continued for several nights and it became apparent that the Bathroom Spider had invited several hundred of his closest kin to take up residence. The fact that every time I entered the bathroom, the snickering immediately ceased and they all attempted to hide, displayed that they were definitely up to something that they wished to remain secret.

Fortunately, I had a spy thingy on the inside. Every night between the hours of 7:00pm and midnight, Ivan can be found sprawled upon the heated tiles of the bathroom floor. He spends most of that time sleeping, but he has also been known to nap, slumber and even snooze. He is such a fixture, that during those hours he is considered part of the decor and everyone forgets that he is there.

In order to find out what the eight leggers were up to, I assigned Ivan a mission. To call it an "intelligence gathering mission" would be a bit over-enthusiastic.(Ivan actually repels intelligence instead of gathering it) I simply told him that he was being promoted to Chief Orange Tabby in Charge of All Thingies Sneaky and Spy-Like. As my COTCATS&S, I ordered him to feign sleep and listen to what the eight leggers were doing. He was to report back to me by morning.

The following morning he abashedly reported that he had failed in his mission due to the sleep-inducing power of the heated floor. However, he was happy to report that he had a wonderful dream in which he chased a really fat bunny across a field of catnip while riding a unicorn made of tuna.

I decided that in this case, perhaps a more direct approach was called for.

This afternoon, while the two leggers were at work, I stalked into the bathroom in all my regal glory and informed the Bathroom Spider that I wished to speak with him. As he climbed down the shower curtain, I said in a low, intimidating voice: "I wish to speak to ALL the eight leggers present".

Slowly and nervously, eight leggers began appearing from under the sink, from behind the cabinet, from the folded towels, from inside the toilet paper roll, from the bathtub drain, from the curtains and even from under the toilet seat. Many carried small flags made from small bits of tissue connected to cotton swabs. The flags had slogans that read "Vive Liberte'!" and "Down With Tyrants" and ironically "Don't Tread On Me". There was even one that had a roughly drawn picture of a cat hanging from a tree.

"What's all this?" I asked the Bathroom Spider.

He replied:
"We, the eight legged denizens of your Kingdom, have decided that we have had enough of your tyranny. At best, you treat us as second class citizens. At worst, you treat us as a dietary supplement. We hereby declare that the bathroom belongs us. We have renamed it 'Arachnatopia' and hereby decree that cats are no longer welcome. Well, except for the big stinky tabby, he can come in at his usual time. He amuses us. But you other feline types are no longer welcome in our new society. Leave us in peace, and we shall part with no ill will. However, should you try to stop us, bear in mind that you are few, while we are many......"

I sat and pondered his words for a moment.

He grew uneasy with my silence and finally unable to bear it any longer, he asked, "Well? Do you have anything to say before we banish you?"

"As a matter of fact, I can only think of three words" I replied.


Instantly, Ivan was among the eight leggers.

He stomped, chomped and whomped.

He slashed, bashed and smashed.

In a matter of minutes, the rebellion was put down.

The carnage was extensive. Legs and spider bits lay strewn about as if a bomb had gone off in a spider factory. Ivan sat in the corner with a sated smile on his face.

Needless to say that when the two leggers returned home, they were less than impressed with the killing field they discovered.

They do not appreciate the lengths I go to in order to keep their bathroom free of pests.

Finally, allow me to say that aside from a mild case of indigestion, no felines were harmed in the quelling of this rebellion

Friday, September 12, 2014

Physically Unfit

Scientist thingies have announced that they have discovered the "God Particle".

Also called the "Higgs boson", they say that it is the key to the whole big universe thingy. Given the fact that I am the Grand Poobah and Supreme Dictator of All Universes (known and unknown), I felt I should know more about this theory and those who thunk it up.

After studying this theory between naps over the last 45 minutes, I have drawn my own conclusions and developed my own theory:

There should be mandatory drug tests administered to all physicists.

Allow me to elaborate.

While the physicists have been studying the universe and stuff, I have been studying them.

It seems that in their quest to explain everything, they have become extremely adept at explaining nothing. Oh sure, they got the whole gravity thing right. Stuff drops. But how hard was that? I prove that on a nightly basis. Occasionally however, stuff happens that they simply cannot explain. Whenever this occurs, most folks would simply throw up their paws and say "Huh, I didn't see that coming. I dunno what happened there" and then go have a beer or something. A physicist on the other paw, would rather enter a lion cage in a suit made of meat and catnip than say those three awful words "I don't know".

So instead subjecting themselves to the ridicule and mocking of their colleagues by admitting that some things just happen, they invent a whole new particle, wave or element that is always invisible, untouchable and unmeasurable.

Now don't get me wrong, I understand that the mocking and ridicule of physicists can be quite extreme. If you think bullies in high school were vicious, try facing down a gang of college professors with malice in their pocket protectors and chemicals at their disposal. Imagine waking one morning and finding that the thesis you worked so hard on for the last two years has been vandalized with the words "Dr.______ is big doo doo head" written across the cover page in purple crayon.

So, back to my rant. In my opinion, in an effort to avoid such dire consequences, they simply invent a particle of the week and use such big words and convoluted mish-mashery that the rest of us assume that they must be really smart and that it would be the height of folly to question them.

By now you may be thinking that I dislike and have no respect for physicists. I assure you that quite the contrary is true.

In fact, I seek to emulate them.

I shall use their methods to my advantage.

But not to convince everyone that I know everything (they already know that), I shall use them to avoid accepting responsibility for my actions.

From now on, when a knock knack meets its end in the wee hours of the night, I will blame the "Cujon Wave". It is an invisible force that strikes in the night without warning and leaves only destruction in its path.

The smell that is so horrible that it makes artificial flowers wilt is now dubbed the "Ivanian Plasma Field". It is a colorless gas that dissipates all too slowly, leaving no film and is virtually undetectable by modern sensors after the cloud evaporates.

A high-pitched sound that begins as a soft hum and crescendos into an ear-splitting bit of sonic torture that can shatter glass and piss off any sentient being within a 7.41 mile radius will be forever known as "Tigerphonics".

When every bit of upholstery in the house (especially the right side of the couch and the back of the reclining chair) is suddenly found to be ripped to shreds overnight, this is caused by "a Jaquonian Tear in the space time continuum thingy"

From this point forward, the two leggers will have to bow to the fact that I and my fellow felines are not to blame for their problems.

After all, science doesn't lie.