This is a tale about the most terrifying anglo-saxon monster to ever walk the earth. Well I say walk but this monster glides! This particular monster is slicker than snot , a smooth talker , and looks like a flying squirrel on steroids in that red and brown glider suit. Yet all he ever wanted was to find true love, settle down in a quaint little cottage in the countryside and adopt a great number of cats... Yes, the truth was out. Cats were the only thing he lived for. If only he could start the cat sanctuary he dreamed of. If only that ghastly mother of his hadn't interfered. He snuck out and created a cat commune with the help of a kindly wood elf. Cats would fallow him there like cat nip. But his insane mother found out and in a rather odd turn of events, she flew to her Country Squire woodsided wagon and sped to the Pet Shop to acquire a feline of her own. I had half expected to be beaten, but this, well, this was just plain cheating. I called the pet shop. "Did a lady just drive up in a station wagon and ask you for a cat?" I demanded to know. "Yes," came the reply, "she just ,basically, crashed through the show window, breaking the metatarsal bones in my left foot, and terribly damaging my right foot prosthesis.” “What about the cat?” I wanted to know. Unbelievably, the cat disappeared into a nearby telephone booth & Supercat emerged. I stopped Supercat to ask him if he had seen my cat in the phone booth. Supercat saw my damaged state, & insisted I have a drink with him. "I know that look," he rasped, & confided he too was in an abusive relationship. I was too plastered to ask which of them was the abuser.

 

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