Thursday, May 12, 2011

The Tale of the Teenage Boy Cats or The Dangerous Allure of Slurpees

Once upon a time, there lived in nice house on a nice street in a nice town, two teenage boy cats. Their names were Damon and Clooney, and they were very difficult teenage boy cats. Every day before they left for school, they went through their middle-aged mother’s wallet and took money that didn’t belong to them so that they could go to 7-Eleven during their lunch break and buy Slurpees. It should be noted that by engaging in this activity, they broke not one, but two rules, as not only is stealing wrong, but leaving the grounds of their high school was a privilege given only to seniors.
When their middle-aged mother would confront them after school, they would both deny having taken the money and would point their paws (claws retracted) at each other. One morning, Damon and Clooney went about their usual morning routine of eating Captain Crunch cereal and washing it down with lemon lime club soda. Just prior to leaving, they indulged themselves in routing through their mother’s purse, from which they pocketed her cash. When lunchtime came, they scampered off to the local 7-Eleven and purchased the unholy concoction of Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew and Orange Gatorade mixed Slurpees. They exited the store, and proceeded to suck the drink as they walked back to school, fat and happy little teenage boy cats.
While Damon and Clooney were engaging in their illicit behavior, their mother was at the mall searching for new bras, which happened to be on sale at Macy’s. This was a chore that she would do once every two years – stretching it out as long as possible (quite literally) as the task was a tiresome one. Approximately two hours later, having exhausted herself by trying on a dozen Maidenform, Warner’s, Bali and Playtex medium to full –figured models, she selected four (two white, one black and one ivory) and made her purchase, paying for her new undergarments with her Macy’s card. She made her way to the parking garage and proceeded to exit the mall. At least that was the middle-aged mother cats’ intentions. Unfortunately, after handing the parking attendant her parking ticket and opening her wallet to extract her cash, she discovered much to her annoyance, that her two teenage boy cats had once again . . . cleaned her out. The middle-aged mother cat of two teenage boy cats projected a doleful expression toward the attendant and apologized for having to use a credit card to exit the garage, in turn causing a loud and irritating honking of horns and inconvenient backing up of vehicles. It was at that moment, that deep in her heart, she experienced a mixture of middle-aged mother cat rage, resentment, disappointment and hopelessness directed toward her teenage boy cats. These teenage boy cats have pilfered from me for the last time, she thought to herself. Had she known that at that very moment, Damon and Clooney were leaning back in their chairs in the middle of Chemistry I and Major Women Writers of the 19th Century respectfully, belching loudly and creating a commotion of their own, she may have gone straight to the school , instead of going home.
Upon their arrival home that afternoon, Damon and Clooney were informed of the consequences of their selfish act, and were told that they would be grounded for the next two weeks. The two cats looked at one another and sniggered. Their mother cat told them to go upstairs and do their homework and not to bother her until supper time. Supper was a dismal affair, as the mother cat has spent the afternoon stewing over her teenage boy cats’ misdeeds and did not feel like preparing a nice dinner. Instead they were given bowls of cereal with no milk, and sadly, no lemon lime club soda to wash the dry mess down with. Shortly after they retired for the night, and certain that their mother was asleep, Damon and Clooney decided to sneak out of the house, go to 7-eleven and use their own money (they did after all have part-time jobs) to purchase a more satisfying dinner. Once out the window, the cats were on their way and celebrated by singing an insipid little ditty about a less than virtuous young lady cat and her personal attributes. Just as they were finishing up the chorus, they were shocked to discover that bags had been placed over their heads, their paws had been tied behind their backs, and they were being goose-stepped away. Judging from the absence of the aroma of 99 cent big bites, it was clear that they were not headed in the direction of 7-eleven.
After a quick car ride, Damon and Clooney found themselves in a room full of comfy chairs, large feathers and numerous squeaky toys. For a moment they thought they’d died and gone to cat heaven. That was until they heard a deep growl coming from behind them. They turned to see a large grey Mastiff dog wearing a blue and green Pasha’s hat.
“What the . . .” started Damon.
“Silence!” roared the large grey Mastiff dog. The large dog stood up on all four legs, towering over the two teenage boy cats. Damon and Clooney sank as close to the floor as they could go and put their ears back. Clooney tried desperately to stifle the hair that was quickly rising along his back, but was unsuccessful.
The large dog walked slowly around the two cats, sniffing and nudging them occasionally with his nose. As he walked, the cats became aware of a clacking sound coming from his blue and green Pasha’s hat. Upon closer attention, the sound was revealed to be caused by a fringe of cat teeth hanging from the hats layers, which would bang together as the large dog moved about.
“What do you want from us?” asked Damon nervously, resisting the urge to wash his face with his paws.
“We have some money for 99 cent Big Bites,” said Clooney, hopefully.
The large dog leaned in close to the cats’ faces and scoffed, “I have my own money for 99 cent Big Bites.” His voice became a growl “I choose not to indulge in them.” He sat down again, inspected his toe nails for a moment and then crossed his paws. “Besides,” he said in a matter of fact tone, “they’re bad for you, you know?”
The two cats looked around the room, eyeing the many cat toys just inches away from them. Clooney, sensing a caring side to the beast, sat up and asked “Where’d you get that squirrel on a string over there?”
The large dog looked at the squirrel on a string, and yawned. Clooney took a step toward the toy, but thought better of it, when he heard a low growl emanating from the large grey dog.
“Are you going to tell us what you want from us?” asked and impatient Damon, his ADHD clearly getting the best of him and cancelling out any common sense that may have been lurking in his small teenage boy cat brain.
The large dog swung his large head toward the cat, letting loose a long strand of thick drool which slapped Damon across the face. Damon flattened himself against the floor again.
“What I want from you two, is to watch you play.”
The two teenage cats looked at one another and shrugged. “Mmm ok,” said Clooney, who again set forth toward the squirrel on a string.
“Not with that!” snapped the large dog. The two cats looked at each other again. Damon asked “What do you want us to play with?”
The large dog sat up taller, glared at the two cats and said “I want you to play . . . Patty Cake.”
“Seriously?” asked Clooney, tearing his head away from the treasure that lay before him.
“Seriously,” answered the dog.
And so the two teenage boy cats were placed upon a desk where there sat two computer monitors depicting the images of boy cats whom Damon and Clooney could only presume were previous victims of the large grey Mastiff dog.
“Commence play” growled the large dog, and so the two cats took deep breaths and proceeded to play Patty Cake. When they had finished, the dog said “Again!” The cats looked at one another, sighed and continued their game. Somewhere into the sixth hour, they began to tire of the activity. With sore paws and back muscles at their breaking point, they even forgot the pattern. At this, they became short tempered, frequently called one another “Dude,” and eventually resorted to fisticuffs. They did however manage to pull themselves together and resumed their play. This went on for nine and one quarter hours, until there was a rap on the door.
“Enter!” bellowed the dog. The door opened to reveal the middle-aged mother cat, holding her car keys and wallet protectively.
“Thank you,” she said to the large grey mastiff dog. The large dog bowed and replied “Certainly. I haven’t fed them, but I have kept them busy.”
And so the middle-aged mother cat left the home of the large grey Mastiff dog Pasha, with her two errant teenage boy cats in tow. When they returned to their home, they were grateful for having not been eaten by the large dog, and they vowed to their middle-aged mother cat to never take money from her again.

Below is a video confiscated from the home of the large grey Mastiff dog’s Room of Penance for Wayward Teenage Cats. WARNING – this video may be painful to watch.

Written by Lisa Emig, May 12, 2011
Not to be reprinted without permission of the author.

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