Dry Pussy
I like cats, not particularly squeamish though; So when two mates and I were cleaning out a horrendously packed full of crap garage (to the roof) and found the mummified cat under a mattress, I wasn't fazed. Despite the agonised look on its'half eaten face.

I (the veggie) went to clean it up, whilst the other two (manly meat types) cringed and whimpered. It was interesting from an anatomy point of view so I smiled evilly at them and after wrapping it, popped my new friend in the haversac (that worried them)
and trundled off on my ancient motorbike.

Here's the good bit.
I rode over to Maxines' place a mile away (said I'd visit) and her strange mate Dave was there.
Thinking I could get more fun from my crumbly new pal, I went in and exclaimed

"Bet you can't guess what I've got in my rucksac (hehheh)"

Dave just looked me directly and calmly said, "a dead cat" before settling down in his armchair, smiling.

Neither of the mates at the garage knew where I was going, Maxine or Dave.

I'll never understand how Dave was right, he KNEW.
Brrr.

Irony:-
I still have the cat, but the mice have been nibbling at it.
( FeralCatMan Unusual disease collector., Fri 29 Feb 2008, 21:59, Reply)