Moggsy hated everyone...
And everyone hated it back...My ex's cat. It was fucking misery wrapped in fur. It had the personality of Hitler/Goebells/Rottweiller on heat and the eyes of "oh, look at me I'm cat"...I like cats normally. The fur, the cutesy-wootsy-woo...But this fucker...I hated the thing...I hated the fact that every time I tried to sex with my ex, it would walk up to the futon, and sit by the side...When you're eating, you don't want see the wrong sort of pussy...

Anyway...Her housemates had to live with the thing, and hated it as well...

Euro 1996 was a marvellous time in Nottingham...

And the ex hated football.

Her housemates, didn't...So whilst she went for a bike ride whilst the game was on...

And the cat sat on the top of the TV. Quiet. Unflinching. Unannoyingly.

Then it start to gag. And gag. Retch. Gag...

And it looked at us in a semi-sarcastic "You know I'm fine here"...

And Giles and I looked at it and said "we're not fucking helping you"...

And it gagged. And retched.

And puked up blood, shit, grass, food all down the front of the TV.

I turned to Giles.

"Pub?" I asked.

"Pub" He replied.

2 hours later, Hazel walked in..."Ahh, Moggsy's been sick all over the TV".

In unison, we replied "Really?"
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Sat 9 Jan 2010, 23:07, Reply)