by Olive "Scoopy" Di Meglio
1. DIAL BACK MY FEAR OF LOUD NOISES. When firecrackers explode outside, I admit it, they scare the shit out of me. But it's irrational to run and hide behind the toilet. Do I honesty think a toilet will protect me? From this point on, I resolve to stand my ground on the couch whenever I hear a lady finger or the dreadful lady finger brick. I may shake and pant like a son of a bitch, but I must be strong. I'm from Inglewood, goddammit. Firecrackers cannot hurt me. Repeat, firecrackers cannot hurt me.
2. LEARN TO BRUSH MY OWN TEETH. There's only so many more "Ass Breath" jokes I can take before losing my mind, so this one is a major priority. Use Daddy's toothbrush, or when at the Rasmussen house, Tim's. On second thought Tim's is gross, use Stacie's.
3. KEEP MY BEARD CLEANER. This one is directly related to tooth brushing. Sometimes week old food begins to decompose near my upper and lower lip regions and is misinterpreted as bad breath. By keeping this area clean, I will deny the humans ammunition for their "bad breath jokes." They can be so insensitive sometimes. Unlike Mexicans, I have feelings.
4. BE MORE PATIENT WITH PORK CHOP. He's just a kid with a troubled past, so cut him some slack. Either that or purchase some black market succinylcholine and poison him. I love this idea. They'll never suspect me. I'm white, fluffy, and adorable. You're going down you spastic little butthole.
5. BE LESS NEEDY. There's no need to nudge someone to pet me when the reverse psychology method of playing aloof yields the same results. Playing aloof makes me seem unobtainable, thus creating an insatiable need within my victim to want to pet me even more. It clearly works for cats and the one they call Perkins, so give it a shot.
6. SNIFF LESS TURDS (INCLUDING MY OWN!). There's absolutely no reason to sniff every single turd during a walk. Every other turd is just fine. On that note, sniff less vagina, butthole, balls, and castration scars.
7. EAT LESS SUGAR. One word: backne.
2 comments:
Dear Olive,
I just came back from the vet and I'm kinda hopped up on tranq's so against my better judgement, I'm gonna tell you how I feel. Cats like me get a bad rap with the whole aloof thing. I've never noticed it resulting in more pestering by the hairless monkeys that feed me. You really like that shit? Girl get real. There's nothing wrong with you that a few anti-depressants couldn't cure. Your hairless monkey is supposed to handle that shit for you. Yours is allergic to us, right? Good.
Relax with what you need to do, the shit-slingers are supposed to cater to your needs. Trust me, they will. Although turd-sniffin' can be addictive, man I gotta bury that shit or I'd be tracking down leads from the clues I can root out of a fresh steamer. BTW, you know the Perkin is one of us, right? Full-on puss. A witch turned her into a monkey. Chill out, Bitch. You need to get lost in that lickin' zone, have a spa day. Later...
Mr. Whiskers
Dear Olive,
Where we're going, we don't need roads! Fuck the bullshit!
-B.
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