Ever wish you could own your very own pint-sized adult cat for a reasonable price? Wait no longer. The dream fairy has arrived, baring shark teeth.
Once upon a time – roughly three years ago – my girlfriend (at the time) and I were coming home from a long night at the dive when a stray cat meowed by my car, begging to be loved. “Can we keep her?” She asked. We lured her into the apartment with a piece of broccoli. One year later, the relationship ended, and I won the cat in the divorce.
This cat, we’ll call her Oreo – because she’s orange and gray, of course – is well-fed, well-rested and well cared-for. She’s pet and played with on a regular basis, and her litter is cleaned and cleared often.
She’s certainly playful. When you walk through the door, she will slalom between your legs, and she will nuzzle with you on the couch, on your chair, in bed. She’ll lick your hands. She’ll rub her face all over your clothes. She’ll give you kitty kisses if you put your face in front of hers.
She’s friendly toward remote controls, she’ll talk on your speakerphone. She nuzzles your wine glass and won’t eat people food. She purrs all the time and sleeps on your stomach; protecting you nightmares.
Don’t let this facade fool you. This cat is more evil than a Pol Pot documentary directed by Michael Fucking Moore.
Oreo swats and claws like a woman who’s just been told, “You look fat in them jeans, whorebag.”
She swats when she’s hungry. She swats when she’s thirsty. She swats when she’s tired. She thinks she’s just getting your attention, but she gets those claws in the fully upright and locked position and draws blood like a heroin needle.
She swats during thunderstorms. She swats during oppressive heat. She swats when you walk by, or when you’re sitting down, or when you’re sleeping, or when you’re playing guitar, or when you’re getting it on.
She beat the snot out of a chihuahua. She’s drawn blood from dates brought back to my pad. She’s skewered friends, co-workers and family members. Oreo is straight gangsta. She wields her machete claws like a Ninja Turtle.
You can’t pet the top of her face, her back, her belly, her butt or her tail. She only likes being pet slowly, in a front to back motion, on her neck … or having the bottom of her jaw scratched gently. Otherwise, you will die. It’s like cutting the wrong wire on a time bomb.
Oreo was the runt of the litter and will knead your stomach, especially after a large meal. Prepare a vomit bag at all times.
Speaking of vomit, my cat pukes once a week. You can set your watch to it. She’s been to the vet; nothing is wrong with her. She just … yaks. She binge eats, and then purges. I guess she’s bulimic.
If you’ve ever wanted a lifelong companion, now is your chance. And I mean lifelong. Oreo will not leave you alone. Don’t even think about closing the door behind you for some privacy. Be prepared for scratching and clawing and meowing and yowling. It’s like having a four year-old, except TV will not keep this cat occupied. Not for a second.
When you leave, the cat will wait for you in the window and yowl until you unlock the door. She will play spiderman on your screens. She will tear up your bedskirts and your drapes and your fitted sheets. She will attack thin air.
How much do you think we’d ask for a cat like this? $100? $50? $20? No sir, no ma’am. This cat can be yours for three easy installments of $0. That’s it.
Serious inquiries only, call (716) EVIL-CAT.
You’ll be glad you did.