Most people don’t know this about me but I’m a rebel. I’m crazy. I’m a wild man at a party you don’t wanna attend. When people tell me not to do something, I always do it. A mad man on the prowl, I’m fearless. When someone says, “Don’t walk on the grass”, I LAY in it. When people say “Don’t cross the street without looking both ways”, I cross the street blindfolded on my BARE HANDS. When someone says, “Don’t sit in that chair, the paint’s still wet” you’ll catch me walking down the street butt-naked covered in blue. If someone tells me, “Don’t stick your pinky in that elephant’s butthole” I’ll be picking peanut shells out of it’s teeth. I’ve always been a crazy kinda guy. It’s just who I am…it’s in my blood.

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I noticed recently that Muffins’ litterbox is seldom full of cat feces. Every time I go to empty it nowadays, all I find are empty vodka bottles Grandma has left behind. Being a cat owner, I began to wonder if Muffins had some dietary disfunction or if Grandma was simply scaring him away from the litterbox by throwing her bottles at him (she’s afraid of cat farts…for some reason or another, she believes if you inhale a cat fart it takes 9 years out of your life).

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