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The cat that took a piss


λngelღмander

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The cat meandered along, staring at the ground intently. It was down on it's luck, it's owner having pampered it by feeding it wet food daily, and taking good care of it's coat. Indignant and frustrated, it pranced back and forth across the house. A short trip to the water bowl quenched none of it's innate frustration, so it leapt to the counter. It landed softly and without making a noise. Glancing up at the clock with it's eyes, it would have known the time to be past midnight if it could read the intelligible symbols. Striding along the short strip of counter beside the sink, it found it's one of it's archenemy's prized possessions.

It knew instantly what to do. Murder on it's mind, it jumped off the counter and ran to the water bowl, gulping down as much water as it could hold. The completion of this action left it full and tired, and it went to sleep for the night. Time passed, the enemy woke up and prepared for school. It's tiny feline brain was capable of nothing but unspeakable evil and spite, its only coherent thoughts were vindictive, the only sounds it's mouth could muster were vitriolic. It mulled over the plan in it's head, rehearsing every step as it watched it's sworn enemy, caretaker, and owner with a loathing only matched by the attitude of a victim's family toward the victim's murderer.

How dare that human feed me, give me a comfortable home, pet me when I come near him, love me, and take care of my feline needs? The human walked out the door, his father in tow, and it was then time to retire for the night, energy and metabolic functions needed for the actions to take place later that night. It curled up in a ball on the kitty bed placed in its favorite spot, and slept. It heard the door open and close, signaling its liege's return, and it feigned sleep until he had passed by it. It ran into the bedroom to hide under the bed, to make sure human intervention could not put a stop to its nefarious plans.

Its perfidy was matched only by Lucifer's to God. Hours passed as it stewed in its thoughts. Another feline resident of the household visited it in its sanctuary under the bed, and they purred together for some time. Further hours passed, and it was time. It opened it's eyes, and the dark milieu closed in upon it. It felt it's way slowly out from under the bed, and made it's way back to the kitchen. All was silent, all parties having taken to sleep. It was time. It jumped onto the granite countertop, the smooth cool rock beneath its feet sturdy and hard. It waltzed over to the target, and crouched over the top left side. It had gone too far to turn back. The warm, acerbic urine flowed from her bladder. The relief was intense, the pressure had almost been too much to contain.

The urine flowed into the crevices, the parts there which had already been soaked before got a final dosage. The toxicity had approached L.D. 100 for the computer's remaining functional parts, and they failed. The cat jumped down and took it's place in it's bed for the night. The boy awoke late on the following Saturday morning, refreshed and prepared for an exciting day. The computer turned on, though it left a sticky feeling on his index finger. The cat must have peed on it again. Luckily it turned on. He navigated to the backpack.tf forums, and before he could do anything, the computer shut off with a sound of winding down iconic to modern computers. And it never turned on again.

 

 

 

 

 

I wrote this because I was bored, the cat in question has been given to a shelter, she has a serious problem with this, and we can't take it any more. Clothes, computers, counters, she urinates anywhere. It was time to go.

 

Her name was Dior. I broke up the paragraphs for you guys because I know you cant read blocks of text for some reason. Enjoy.

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Where do you live?

 

I might go over there, and take Dior.

 

Weapons of mass destruction.

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