Its downright humiliating when you are being taught lessons about Manhood by a woman.
Apparently apart from cockroaches I'm petrified of dead animals.
Strangely enough,dead people don't faze me.I have a morbid fascination with death in human beings.In fact I experience cognitive dissociation and dispassion.When I see a dead body My mind is immediately off the dead body and upon imponderables pertaining to the soul,karma and other heavenly concepts.
Overfed cats pose a significant problem in urban areas.
A cat is a cat is a cat.
And that is that. (sorry I have a compulsion to make words rhyme, often for no reason)
No one or nothing can change their feline nature.Their keenly honed senses and instincts cannot be denied.Their feral nature cannot be denied.Even when fed, they have to hunt simply for the thrill of the hunt itself.
Our cats usually bring in dead mice and rats and on one occasion a dead bat!
Remember Hitler Cat?
Yeah! All cats are Hitler cats...
What I mean to say is, all cats are sadistic in nature.Believe me, I've had 8 cats so far.
My cats usually bring a mouse half-dead and then toy with it till death.Chubby, one of my cats,is usually the one with the brightest disposition amongst all,but when she catches something, then she gets transformed into a bloodthirsty monster!
The torture has to be made into a spectacle.She will wait with the half dead victim until we arrive and then she will lead us towards it.What happens next is a very grim danse macabre.She will repeatedly toy around with the captive and inflict just enough pain to keep it alive, and then finally when bored, simply eat its head(so that its really dead?), crunching and munching all the way leaving the rest of the body to us.
You should witness the twinkle in her eyes when she has caught something.She is proud, and she wants to show it.She usually stashes her victim in some prominent part of the house where it is easy to be found and then she'll lead us there.She has left dead mice on my bed,the kitchen table,the living room sofa and on every carpet of the house.
Of course, I cry for Mommy every time,
I'm scared of the mangled bodies, the headless corpses of rats and mice and other dead creatures.Stephen King's 'Pet Sematary' comes to mind. What if the apparently dead mouse springs back alive for one last hurrah with yours truly?
Brrr!
Today, I found another dead mouse...but Mommy wouldn't help.She said that it was time I became a man.
I tried to explain genetics...Mom...an 'x' chromosome and a 'y' chromosome combines and results in a man...and then cultural and gender stereotypes are imposed unfairly on the child during vital stages of development and the child's true potential is lost...OH MOMMY MOMMY I DON'T WANNA DO IT...PLEASE MOMMY...PLEASE!
Nope! Didn't work.I can't melt her heart like I used to when I was ten.
Since it was in my room , I had to clean the mess...she said
...like a man, she added at the end.
Yes I did it.
It was scary but I threw the mouse out after poking it several times to confirm its death.
I was a man.
Yay! (is it manly to say Yay?)
But minutes later I was screaming like a girl when Chubby carried the same dead mouse inside the house once again.
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