Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Wednesday, 21 June 2017

Is It Caturday Yet?

Years ago we had a little black bastard of a cat that we named Coffee. He was horrible. As a kitten he often pounced on me while I was sound asleep and would flip out with the fighting and biting as I awoke with a pamper full of fright! He had me timed down to the microsecond too - just as I had gathered my wits and was awake enough to throttle him - he'd scamper away.

Back then, down in the man-cave, my shop was cleaner than a Green Bean United States Fuggin Marine's M16! All my tools were hung on a peg board. My work bench was always uncluttered and often even clean.

And that was when the little bugger would strike!

I would be working away with a wood carving, possibly plugged into an ipod listening to music... and the little bastard would explode onto my bench and start knocking stuff off onto the floor! If he was really fast he would start knocking tools off the peg board too. And - by the time my reflexes kicked in - he would scamper away - usually through the neatly stacked scrap lumber - which he would knock over as he passed. The noise, pandemonium and my rage were like a tonic for him.

One day I was sitting in the middle of my freshly cat-bombed out shop. The little bugger had squiggled in behind the freezer where he could wait for my rage to subside in safety. I remember picking up my HK .45 (which he had thoughtfully pushed onto the floor)... and picking up a few shells from a dumped ammo box. Absently, I racked and locked the slide and dumped the mag... and started thumbing a few shells into it. Would the neighbours hear the shot? Would my wife call the cops? I smiled to myself as I pondered a long slow caress of the trigger, with Coffee's face lined up nicely in the sights ... and was clobbered by a 2x4 that went over when the little swine broke for the stairs. I got a good sized Barney-Rubble lump on the noggin from that one. But I DID get an idea.

A couple mornings later I was working at the bench with half an eye turned to the stairs. Sure enough, the little fink came slinking down the stairs, bent on mayhem and violence. He stealthily snuck up to the opposite side of the bench... and I smirked and reached for my new FP (Fisher Price) water pistol. When he hopped up to attack he got it full in the face with an icy jet of water! HAR HAR HAR! Take that, you little bugger! HAR HAR HAR!!!!

He ran behind the freezer but soon discovered that I could get him there with the water gun too! By the time he escaped upstairs he was soaked to the skin! :) :) :) I heard the wife shriek in disgust upstairs - no doubt the little turd had hopped into her lap hoping to suck up! :) :) :)

Coffee's been gone now for - holy mackaral - 6 years? Seven? Today I have dawgs and love them with all my heart but I miss the crazed antics of that demented cat. I can just imagine the hell he would wreak today with my shop being the cluttered disaster that it is.

You and I will meet again, Coffee. In the meantime - give the devil my regards.

1 comment:

  1. My own 12 pounds of joy, Danté, would often ambush me. We lived in a one room apartment with a Murphy bed, and my bare feet would hang over the edge at the foot of the bed. So in the morning...