Tag: cats

Larry the Substitute Oracle

“Everything is relative.”

Larry said this, hoping the woman in front of him wouldn’t know what he meant. It was something others did to Larry a lot, and it always worked. His smart friends could shut him up in a hurry by telling him something was relative; he never had an answer.

Now he sat in a dimly lit marble chamber facing Mrs. Lomax, who thought he was a much smarter man than he actually was. He saw that she expected wisdom from him. She wanted to know what the autumn harvest would bring. So he uttered the magic words that always reduced him to muteness, hoping it would do the same to her. It did not.

She stared back, directly into his shallow eyes. “The harvest is relative?” she asked.

“Um, yes,” Larry answered, knowing he would have to ride this train to its final station.

“Well?” she said from beneath a slanted eyebrow. “Relative to what?”

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Back Home Again, and Where Fort Worth Can Stick It

I drove the 700-odd miles yesterday to get myself home to Austin from Kansas City, where I spent some quality time getting the blood ripped out of me by my friend’s cat, who showed such dedication to the task that he ought to consider working for the Red Cross. He could pay “enforcement” visits when their telemarketing efforts fail. But I digress …

Incidentally, if you happened to be in Fort Worth last night while I drove through, you may have heard me screaming the words “Goddammit, what highway is this? Where are your fucking street signs? I hate you, Fort Worth!” Even if your windows were rolled up, you might have heard me, because I was far louder than I am used to being. I was mightily vexed. I did, in fact, miss a needed highway on-ramp because they decided its identity was better kept secret. That was the culmination of about 20 minutes of missing turns because so many of their streets are unmarked, or else marked with tiny letters, in fancy typefaces that can’t be read until you’re about six feet away, and my vision is 20-20. So, Fort Worth, welcome to my shit list. I hope I never have to drive in you again. Today is the start of a long campaign of telling everyone how awful you are.

Things I Shouted While Cat Sitting

When I first moved to Austin, I spent about six weeks renting the home of a girl I knew who was out of town for the summer. In this place of hers she had two cats that it was my job to look after. Here are some things I could be heard to say:

“OUCH!”

“You cannot possibly have that much pee in you!”

[In a King Arthur voice]: “Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!”

“Stop eating my phone!”

“No! Please, no, please don’t throw up there!”

“Who taught you such filthy language?”

“No, you do NOT get to help me pee!”

“OUCH!”

“Do NOT call 911!” (I swear this really happened. He actually dialed all three digits somehow, but did not manage to hit the send button.)

All this activity led me to invent the new insult “Fur Jerk.” Feel free to use it. If you’re a cat person, you probably have one near you who deserves it.