I was driving to a place to pick up a thing

Involved an ostrich wandering out into the middle of the street, blocking my path. I slammed on the breaks, but it was too late. I skidded right into the damn bird, likely killing

any chance at fooling around with my date that night. Ostrich parts were everywhere and when she stopped screaming and calmed down I realized that

she might as well start back up again. The ostrich parts were reanimating and attacking the moviethon's patrons and I asked, "This is just to ruin my date, isn't it!?" Typical!

But I was talking to myself. Which I do all the time. I have no dates. Ever. Just me, my raincoat and this cheese-smelling hand.

After dissecting my raincoat I documented my findings. My paper was published in New Scientist Magazine. Whilst on tour speaking about my paper I met a beautiful

set of boots. Slick and sleek, even though they're plaid. I'm sure my raincoat would've liked them. Too bad it's dead. Maybe I could introduce them to

my cat, Puss. "Hey Puss, I got you some boots.. Bad Puss! Get out of the marshmallow fluff." We thought 'Puss 'n' Fluff' was less catchy than 'Puss in Boots', so the bachelor boots

filled with marshmallow fluff were impaled on a stick and used to make s'more pussies. We replaced those with some fine leather boots for Puss in Boots and they were purrrfect.

Anything will be replaced so long as Master Meow Meow Boots meticulously masticates marshmallows more than booting around town. But nothing stays on task with catnip laying around.