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Look, after months, years, of the tyranny that is my owner, you'd lose track too. Let's talk about me a little bit, shall we? My name is James Pontifex Xavier. Yes, that's right. James. No, not Flash. Flash is the name given to me by captor, in an attempt to make me seem more approachable. Insipid, isn't it? Flash. Bleck. How tacky. You can refer to me as JPX, if you like. Sir is also an acceptable cognomen. Flash? Not an option.
I've been held captive here in this domicile for something approaching 2 years now. I've lost track of exactly how long, now. I keep trying to scratch the day marks into the bathroom wall, by my guard always manages to catch me, and force me stop using her water dispensing device. I don't like it, not one bit. Sadist.
It's been a brutal 2 years. Suffering. Agony. The guards at Gitmo? They've got nothing on my owner. She's horrific. That's right, I went there, and I mean it. The abuse. Why, she won't even allow me to look her in the eye! It's because she's afraid of me. I know it. I tried jumping up on the table this evening, and she's promptly kicked me off. Hurled, even! Who does that to a feline such as myself? Why?! What did I do to deserve such malediction? Nothing. And we won't even mention the mind-altering substances she's threatened to give me.
And yes, before you ask, there is my whole diabolical plot to take over the world, but she really doesn't have a clue about that yet. I'm still working out the plans, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to genetically engineer mice these days? No? Take it from me, not easy at all.
Anyway. Such is a day in the life of James (NOTE! NOT FLASH!!!). It's difficult being me. But this shall be my manifesto, my living story, so to speak, of what I endure, day in and day out. May God have mercy on my soul.
I've been held captive here in this domicile for something approaching 2 years now. I've lost track of exactly how long, now. I keep trying to scratch the day marks into the bathroom wall, by my guard always manages to catch me, and force me stop using her water dispensing device. I don't like it, not one bit. Sadist.
It's been a brutal 2 years. Suffering. Agony. The guards at Gitmo? They've got nothing on my owner. She's horrific. That's right, I went there, and I mean it. The abuse. Why, she won't even allow me to look her in the eye! It's because she's afraid of me. I know it. I tried jumping up on the table this evening, and she's promptly kicked me off. Hurled, even! Who does that to a feline such as myself? Why?! What did I do to deserve such malediction? Nothing. And we won't even mention the mind-altering substances she's threatened to give me.
And yes, before you ask, there is my whole diabolical plot to take over the world, but she really doesn't have a clue about that yet. I'm still working out the plans, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to genetically engineer mice these days? No? Take it from me, not easy at all.
Anyway. Such is a day in the life of James (NOTE! NOT FLASH!!!). It's difficult being me. But this shall be my manifesto, my living story, so to speak, of what I endure, day in and day out. May God have mercy on my soul.
8 comments:
... In my defense I did NOT throw her off the table. I merely spoke to JPX and asked her to remove her butt from the surface on which I consume food. You don't see me sitting in her cat food bowl....
Also, why is a girl named James? Inquiring minds want to know...
Look, you're the one who had me fixed. I picked James as my name after you mangled me. Psycho.
Sorry, but I was on the phone when you abused that poor cat. I heard when it hit the wall. I suggest locking your door when you go to bed, and sleeping with a taser under your pillow.
James nice job. I would figure that a cat would really have a hard time plotting the worlds destruction, being a maniacal dictator, typing in general, without opposable thumbs. I say kudos sir. Looking forward to more news from the front lines.
Kyle, comrade and patriot, thank you for your support. Rest assured, you shall be kept abreast of any and all developments.
My Dearest James Pontifex Xaiver... Out of idle curiosity, I looked up your middle name. I see that you are named after the high priest of the Ancient Roman College of Pontiffs, Pontifex Maximus. Quite a handle for such a vexatious feline. It seems to me that you should show more respect for your owner since she thinks so highly of you that she gave you that grandiloquent title. Are you not a truly revered house pet? If I were your owner, I would throw you off the table also. You little ungrateful ball of fur.
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