cat in a cone

i’ve never had an animal that had to wear one of those white plastic cones on their heads so they wouldn’t lick parts of themselves or whatever but now that this is a horrid run-on sentence the point is that i have an animal like that now. oh yes! cat in a cone! ha ha ha ha! the amusement is endless i tell you. he can’t walk (this could be in part because of the drugs). he can’t eat (this also could be nausea from aforementioned drugs). he can’t lick the disgusting patch of shaved fur and embedded drain system for the infectious inflammation (this could be because he knows it’ll taste gross). but really it’s none of those parenthetical things! it’s the cone! ha ha ha ahhhhh…… stupid pisser cat. that’s what he gets for messing with my fattus waller.

no but really i feel a little badly for sammy because fats has yet to be hurt, ripped off claws in his fur notwithstanding, and all the other cats (teevsers, sammy, and fuck-face) have all developed some small to major injuries. sammy’s is just the worst so far in that it got infected and now there’s a cone-need. (snicker. cat cone.) but he looks so depressed and he’s not allowed outside or to socialize with the others and he’s IN A FUCKING CONE. so yeah, little sympathy. poor kitty. and he used to be such a sweetheart too. when he was wee. but now all he does is pee. hee. i’m on a roll! don’t stop me!

a girl from the second floor mail room asked me if i lived with sean this morning. i was a little flabbergasted. i said no. and then she was like oh ok sorry. and i was like oh it’s all right i mean, i know sean. and then she went away. the transaction of events was just as i have described. but now i’m too shy to go down and ask her why she thought i lived at ward street. i don’t even hardly ever go to ward street. or how does she even know that i know sean? puzzling. it’s probably the david boy who works down there and was at the pirate party. mmm pirates….yar!