First Week With Multiple Kittens
My girlfriend, because, well, you know, adopted three kittens. At the current time the kittens are sequestered in the bedroom because they are, to put it mildly, insane. I don't think it's their fault I think that's just how they come out of the kitty bake oven.
I wanted to give you the full story so I searched far and wide on craigslist until I found a self-proclaimed cat translator, Phineas T. Throckmorton, III, to make mews and meows understandable to humans.
While reading Phineas' translations I figured there must be some mistake with possibly dialect or accent because there is no way cats, much less kittens, could use the words 'kill' and 'murder' or the phrase, 'The giant bald one dies tonight.' as much as he translated. So those translations will be edited out for being just so hard to believe.
The cats statements are in italics.
Day One:
These cats are so cute!!! Look at them play and frolic!!!
I can't believe they always fall for this. Don't they see that we're in battle training for their ultimate demise? This will be easier than our overlords said.
Night One:
Wow, they're surrounding me with their love!!!
Stay close, boys. Our first probing starts tonight.
Late Night One:
Aww, isn't that cute!!! One of the cats woke me up licking my face that's so. . .what is he doing? Oh, ah, he's licking my ear. That's a little weir. . .he just stuck his tongue in my ear. His whole fucking tongue is in my ear. That's not a thing, is it?
Probe complete. Results are in: this one is pretty damn simple. His take down is eminent.
Morning One:
That's okay, I don't need more than two hours of uninterrupted sleep. Let me just start to feed. . .on my gawd! What are they doing? Why are they climbing up my legs? Don't they realize I don't have pants on? It's not good for a human to lose this much blood, is it?
Fall! Fall you bastard! Once you are grounded we will have complete control over you. Until you die, of course, then we'll just feast upon your bloated carcass.
Late Morning One:
Where are my glasses? I put them in the same spot. . oh, there they are. The little buggers must have moved them during their endless frolicking overnight. Let me put these. . oww, what is that? Maybe something is stuck to the earpiece. Nope, one of the little bastar. . .I mean, cute and fuzzy kitties, chewed my damn earpiece.
Extracting of DNA complete. When we do successfully nullify this one we will make a more compliant clone so the other giant feeders do not get suspicious.
Night Two:
Aww, they're all surrounding me with love and affection.
Fall! Fall you bastard! Come on boys! Trip this one and we'll be on our way to total domination.
Late Night Two:
Is there a gang fight happening outside the window? Nope, just cats using my head as a speed bump on the way to fight club.
Keep running at him, boys! His soft bald skull won't be able to withstand the abuse. He'll suffer so many concussions he won't be able to remember if he fed us or not. And he'll feed us again making us more powerful while draining his will to live!
Later Night Two:
What is that? Yep, it's a potted plant. Why is it on my head? Did we have an earthquake? Oh, nope, we have cats. Wait, is that dirt on my head? And everywhere surrounding me? Why yes, it is.
I told you he wasn't dead yet. Why did you try to prematurely bury him? We might have to abort our entire mission due to your carelessness.
Morning Two:
Come on, boys! Get off the broom. I have to sweep your litter up.
Hang on, boys! He's really fighting this time. We must do anything to stop him from taking our sacred litter. Do you think he knows we use this to cover our secret messages back to our planet? No, he can't. Look at him. He's probably the dumbest of all the specimens we've studied over the centuries.
Night Three:
Oww, oww, oww! Why are you biting my feet? Knock it off I'm trying to get my allotted two hours of interrupted sleep per night as ordered by the overlords. Wait, I don't have overlords.
If we cannot trip you in the morning we will make it impossible for you to walk by any means necessary. Remember, they can never defeat us if we defeet them first.
Night Four:
Yes, cute, Yes, pet. And you. And you. Wait, didn't I already pet you? Are you even one of our cats?
Ahahahahhaha! The breakdown is taking effect. Later we will check him to see how much longer he can withstand our onslaught. I predict not much longer.
Later Night Four:
Oh, oh, a cat is near my face. What the hell's he going to do? Oh shit, he's licking again. Wow, has his tongue got sharper in two days? Do cats sharpen their tongues because. . .aww shit, he's in my ear hole again. Sigh. I guess this is my life now.
Our testing reports that he is far more resilient than we first anticipated. We must report this back to our overlords once he leaves to forage in the woods for our food in the daylight.
Night Five:
Would you stop biting my sneakers? I'm not going to take them off until you stop. What are you doing behind me? Where is the third one? Don't lose track of them or it could be a costly mistake.
His outer layer of skin is much tougher. We'll have to wait until he mutates into his prone positioning skin to attack the lower extremities. Keep moving around. Don't let him get a good copy on your location. We much always maintain the element of surprise. Never let the feeder giant get comfortable.
Later Night Five:
Is that another pot in bed with me? Where the hell did that even come from? Did they carry it across the room to drop it on me? I am never going to have clean bedding for the rest of my life.
Not if we have anything to say about it, pal. Our plan to make sleeping as uncomfortable as possible is moving along swimmingly.
Morning Six:
Get off the broom! Stop clawing at my legs! Get out from under my feet. Get out of my way so I can scoop your damn shit.
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stop him! He's taking our reports out of the in box. They're scheduled for pick-up in twenty minutes. This mission is going south. Try to trip him but if that fails rub up against him all cute like just like the manual says to distract him to see if we can recover any of our vital reports. Damn it! He put them all in an impenetrable bag. This is a huge blow for our mission and one that he will pay dearly for.
Night Six:
What are you all doing on the bed?
The giant feeder is suspicious. You! Go over and purr at him. These simpletons always fall for that.
Awwwwwwwwww. You're so cute.
Prepare for tonight, boys, it's going to be a long one.
Later Night Six:
Stop biting my feet. Stop sitting on my head. Get away from that plant. Where'd that blood come from? Yep, it's mine. Don't do that. Stop doing that. Why is that even a thing?
Keep moving, boys! I know it's tiring but you know the drill. We'll sleep in the morning so we attack at night. The stupid one gets no sleep tonight! Let's all run over his head at the same time. That one always gets him.
Night Seven:
Hi cats! Is everyone happy? Would you like a treat? Here, I'll put them over here away from the gritty bed so I can get under the covers unmolested by any of you fur bags.
No! Don't fall for the old treat in the corner maneuver. Oh no! Quick, someone scramble around his feet to slow him down. Damn it, man, the treats will still be there. Don't lose focus. We've got one last night to break him or we'll be relegated to be compliant cats and we don't want to be the first of our kind to be actually subservient to these creatures, do we? I didn't think so. Good trip Colonel Buffington. He'll feel that one in the morning.
Later Night Seven:
Please, please let me get five minutes of sleep. Could you not purr so loudly right into my ear hole? What is it about you cats and ear holes? What time is it? Oh, I have to get up for work in three hours anyway so I guess I should get up now.
Mission accomplished! He is now our pawn to do our bidding! Stupid giant! More kibble for me and the boys.
Whatever you say, master.
