The young’un cat, for reasons that are not at all clear to me, has decided to go the full barbarian. Living with him is like having Attila the Hun in the house. The folks at Uncyclopedia describe Attila as a being who “made men shit in their togas, bar the doors to churches and look up to heaven for help.” Yeah. It’s like that.
Earlier adventures of this absolute animal may be found here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here. But all that is as nothing, compared to his most recent forays into the annals of Outrage.
For instance, the other day I wander into the bathroom to find him employing his unusually dexterous monkey paws to savagely unroll all the toilet paper off the roll. He had a completely crazed look on his face during the entire procedure. Occasionally he would pause in his labors to sink his teeth into the helpless tissue, ripping and rending and shredding and tearing. Then, when he had finished, he turned and began wantonly sniffing the toilet.
There simply was not enough medication in the Manor to deal with this spectacle. “The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report,” just how 5th Century this was. All I can do is mutely offer the photographic evidence of this Hunic display.
I think I am going to have to get in touch with this Genevieve person. It is said that when Attila set about besieging Paris, round about 451 CE, she managed to summon some juju that caused the Hun to cease and desist in his barbarian ways. I need some of this juju. Please, dear Genevieve, dispatch to the Manor said juju, post-haste.