Cowthulhu
  • madminx

(no subject)

Rowan decides to drink a shot of vodka tonight. Just one shot. You know, to take the edge off things, because edges are just too ... sharp. Especially tonight.
You see, Rowan is the kind of girl who can't calm down, ever. She decides that maybe she will do this more often, this one shot of vodka thing.

She's also the kind of girl who prefers to talk about herself in third person. It's easier that way. That way she can pretend she is someone else. That way she can imagine a wonderful world. A world where she is just another character in a story. A world where she doesn't actually have to take on the responsibility of living.

That responsibility, she finds, is very difficult to take on sometimes. Especially tonight.

She wonders if maybe she should drink more. Just a little more...
Yes. The edge is still there, she decides. She's out of juice, though.

"Fuck."

She watches the cat stretch out its horribly cute little toes and feels peaceful for a moment.

Rowan daydreams a lot, now that Claudia is gone. She also dreams a lot. She finds herself sleeping so much sometimes that her eyes hurt from lack of oxygen, if that's possible. She has dreams that seem brilliant, until she wakes up. Then they seem utterly boring.

Fatass begins to murr over and over on the bed. This makes Rowan feel crazy. It shouldn't exist... it really shouldn't...

"No, Fatass, go back to sleep."

"Murr?"

"Please don't do that to me."

"Murrrrrrrr..."

"I hate you..."

Rowan decides there is no point to her rambling. There's no point in writing a story without a point, so it's time to stop.
  • Current Mood
    calm calm
Cowthulhu
  • madminx

(no subject)

Fatass strolls across the hallway and into the bedroom just in time to hear, for the hundredth time, Rowan and Claudia plotting her and Bitchface's death.

Claudia: "Why is she so cute?"

Rowan: "I don't know! We should kill it!"

Claudia: "We really should..."

Fatass decides it would be better to kill the humans before they kill her, so she and Bitchface begin to plot their death. They decide that the best way to do it will be death by cuteness.

Fatass devises a series of tricks they know will drive the humans insane, and then she demonstrates them to Bitchface.

First lesson: Murring. Bitchface never really got the hang of this one, to Fatass's dismay...
To demonstrate the effects of the Murr, Fatass strolls into the bedroom and starts running around looking at things and murring. The humans go wild.

Fatass: "Muurrrrrrrrrrrr.... Murr? Murr... MURR!!!"

Rowan: "Stupid cute piece of shit!"

Claudia: *shakes head and sighs* "WHY?!" Why would she do that?!"

Rowan: *sigh* "I don't know..."

Fatass ran out of the bedroom murring and told Bitchface to go practice. Bitchface strolls into the room and can't bring herself to murr, so instead she just plants herself in the middle of the room and meows sadly. This has a very interesting effect on the humans.

Bitchface: "Meow?.. MOW... mow..."

Claudia: "AWWW!! You're so cute!" *kisskiss*

Rowan: "Kill it!!"

Claudia: "Might have to."

As Bitchface runs out of the room, Fatass compliments her. She thought the idea was brilliant. Meowing sadly seems to be very powerful indeed... Bitchface, however, thought it was awful and whines about how annoying it is being kissed.

As time goes by the two cats master their art of cuteness. They sense the humans slowly becoming weaker, but they also keep catching bits and pieces of the humans plotting their death. They decide that if the humans really were going to kill them, wouldn't they have done it by now? Nontheless, they continue with their evil plan...
  • Current Mood
    bored bored
Cowthulhu
  • madminx

(no subject)

I'm all alone! Meh.

Everything is already starting to feel bland.

Now that the denial is gone, I feel like Griffith felt when Gatsu left, as corny as that sounds.
  • Current Mood
    alone
blockhead

The Filthy Hygene Habits of the Common Man

Ball-Licking is an art. Not to be taken lightly such as it is by many a canine, and not to be dismissed, as it is by the legions of human prattle who scoff and snicker as they observe those of us with enough sense to know the beauty of a good clean scrotum. I can't understand for the life of me why humans refuse to do it. Are there tongues simply so short that they cannot reach their own genitals, or are they merely in love with the idea of harboring festering fungus and pungent aromas on their most sensitive of organs? If it is the former, I pity them, and if the latter is true, well, then man's world is truly doomed. All of us "lesser beings" are sure to die at its side.

-Blockhead
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    The Lick of the Unsung Mongrel - Air Supply