Last night I stayed up later than I should have drawing a comic about the football playoffs. It was a very amped up and emotional day. 20 panels later, I prepare to go to bed when some after-party activity starts happening for the housemate. I cover my head with pillows, but 4 restless hours later, the kitty litter pan smell has finally stirred me out of my slumber. I lean up to check the damage but my hand lands in cold mush.
yes. so it was okay to feed cats milk in the 80's but not anymore. Puke followed onto the Vanity Fair article (that I didn't finish) about the New York Times writer who was fired. I was so peeved and paranoid that animals are out to get me. I carefully listened to every internal kitty noise while I burned a candle and tried to catch some zs at 4:30 a.m.
Tonight, it happened again when the housemate greeted the cat. He started convulsing so I put him on the floor. It was violent and brief. He seems fine. But I found a bee-bee? I hope he's okay.
At least he hasn't put the knife to me yet.
5 comments:
I'd like to see the comics posted, like the 20 panel football thingey.
???? maybe? maybe not? up to you, of course.
and pass up a $1 charge for maybe selling it? I don't think so.
Besides, the stick-figure renderings are so lifelike that I would expose my identity, more than I'd care to reveal.
heh. Oh, come on? Like I can't recognize you from the cartoon above. Like the other day I was walking down the avenue, and two disconnected eyes hovered right past me calling out for Alphie. I so knew it was you.
that was me alright. one of my eyes saw another crazy Hampden person walking down the street with a big blue bird on his shoulder and I didn't want Alphie to try to eat it.
Why you gotta be a pirate hatta?
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