Auld Lang's Whine

"It's been a feckin' year since anyone's paid us any mind," said Jimmy.

And the Mrs. had to admit, it was the feckin' truth.

"Shite, then. Sure an' how about a bit o' Fellatio to stave off the boredom," said Jimmy.

"What? At this time o' the night?" howled the Mrs..

"I'm not singin' feckin' opera at this hour, ya feckless twat!"

Roddy Doyle

- Eejit.

Jimmy Cat was enjoying breakfast. The sardines were a taste, though the juice had made a bit of a dribble on the floor. No matter, he'd lick it up when Mrs. Cat wasn't looking.

Jimmy was giving out about the other cat in the house, a patchy porker who was visiting Mr. and Mrs. Upstairs. Something about Mrs. Upstairs' sister's piles being worked on in a hospital in Sligo. Any rate, old baldy was in the house to stay, and he was, as Jimmy said, an eejit.

- Now, then, he's not so bad.

Mrs. Cat, taking the side of the guest.

- He's taken a dump in the pantry.
- Not his fault he ate all that leftover curry.
- Eejit.
- Now, now.

Jimmy didn't care. He didn't care if baldy heard him. He was in a foul mood, what with this and the sardine juice down his chin and Jimmy Junior getting his ear ripped the other night by some tough from Dunblane. Barrytown wasn't fit to live in with all this going on, foreign cats and all.

- I'm going out.
- Don't go looking for that Dunblane cat.

Fuck. How did she know?

- I know what you're thinking of. Leave it be. Wee Jimmy'll have to fight his own fights.

What the bloody hell was the world coming to? Now the woman was telling him not to meddle, to let the kid fight it out. That was completely backwards. It was supposed to be the ma giving out to the kiddies about not messing, staying out of fights, not encouraging them. It was getting so that Jimmy had no clue what a da was supposed to do any more.

- Alright, I'm going to Bertie's. He's some fish bones need seeing to.

Jimmy left, scanning the road for that Eejit dog Rover and making sure there was no dog poo in his path. Barrytown. What a dump. And now he was sharing it with a balding mog from Kinsale, who gobbled leftover curry and deposited the remains inside the house.

Jimmy hoped Bertie had something better than fish bones to take his mind off it all.

With apologies to Joyce Kilmer.


Kittees
I think that I shall never see
A human clever as a cat.
A cat whose hungry eyes will stare
At that sweet cheezburger sitting there.
A cat that watches for his chance
To steal that burger while you glance
At other kitteh over there
Who's hacking up a ball of hair.
Upon your carpet he has lain,
A knarly icky glob to stain.
Humans are just fools you see,
Can be distracted, meanwhile we...
Can haz cheezburger.

Om nom nom hey nonny nonny.

Jenasis

Jeniasus 1:1-3

Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem. Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz. At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.

An Basement Cat LOLed.

miss cat, beat poet

& then that cat cat flew outta my head and outta my crib & then he was gone leaving me with adam's rib 'cos it's soooooo like the way the artichokes ramble on and on but then mysteriously he was gone it was said that he came back but i never saw it happen so he's still gone and it's all whack

whatever the place is empty like blue orbits of the moon and when it happens like that it's the middle of june i can't find him no more so i went to the store and stored up more so sore my head's so sore thinking about that cat and his mat and where my head's at i wish and i wish that my thinking weren't flat

mister cat you're tiring me out i need a dish of trout to fill my belly out what you did when you left me last wednesday night it ain't right I'm contrite and my eyes in the light can't see anything anything anything new so what do I do and so man i flew from the door to the store and i can't buy no more this materialism is making me sore

so i say mister cat you making me ache give me a break you just come and you take so you better be back mister cat and that's that

E.E. Cummings

but

&thisis the


(in the manner of)

and so the
hat flying furiously

:as it will,


when all feline friends are interwoven
brokenly;

and over the hill
comes


(I share the cream)

Horror

Space Cat beckoned for her to go with him. The cat followed Space Cat towards the ship. She was enthralled by Space Cat's presence and thrilled to be with him, but as soon as she stepped into the ship, she realised something was wrong.

Badly wrong.

The interior of the ship was dimly lit, and had a peculiar smell. A metallic smell, and the cat was reminded of the taste of old pennies. She glanced around. And then she saw them. It was carnage. Bodies were piled up all over the place. The floor was sticky with blood. The cat swallowed hard, trying not to gag.

"What happened?", she asked Space Cat. "Why have you brought me here?"

Space Cat smiled. And as soon as he did, the cat realised that her hero was not all he seemed.

"You were brought here for a reason, cat." said Space Cat. "You are one of the chosen ones."

"Chosen for what?", asked the cat, delicately stepping over a severed head. She was conscious of her paws slipping and sliding around in the blood - evidence it was fresh.

Space Cat's sardonic grin stretched wider. "You're one of the chosen ones", he repeated. "Few have the opportunity to serve. You are very fortunate, cat."

"Serve who?" asked the cat, wondering if there was some sort of bizarre dinner party in the offing.

"The great one. Come with me, my pretty", said Space Cat.

The cat backed away. Hero worship was perhaps better in theory. But she wasn't quick enough. There was a flash of silver, and a hiss as the knife cut through the air....

The Cat Sat On The Mat

It might have been stuffed, but for the fact that its tail occasionally twitched back and forth. Through half-closed eyes, it surveyed the room around it.

A small stove in one corner crackled with the sound of burning wood. Beside it, some wet clothes had been hung up to dry: a rather naff wooly jumper, some tattered blue jeans, a pair of off-white socks.

Below the grimy window, a sink was piled high with dirty dishes. The cat really wasn't in the mood to wash dishes right now, but it could hear a faint scratching sound coming from just outside the window.

The cat yawned, stretched nonchalantly and padded across the room. Leaping up on the counter, it peered through the one clean window pane.

What it saw made its hair stand on end.