Random acts of stationery #25

Tabitha? Is that you, dear?

Well, I’m cer­tainly not kiss­ing you now, fish breath.

4. Retrieve dead cat
5. Light barbecue…

Jack — Tabitha is dead! Dead, I tell you!

Ani — But it’s not fish fla­vour Whiskas! It’s Chicken & Eabbit!

Miles Away — Good idea. I like sum­mer days with the smell of bar­be­cued dead cat waft­ing from a neigh­bour­ing garden.

(I know, I know. First killing a horse, now mur­der­ing a cat. I’m nice, really.)

4. Brush teeth vigorously.

If you hadn’t eaten the Whiskas and can­celled the milk, per­haps you wouldn’t have num­ber one to do.

So here is a turn away from being frivol­ous then, I dare say?

And, oh, might I take this oppor­tun­ity to com­mend your handwriting! :)

Do bury the cat. Don’t drop it down a well. Remem­ber you need to sit there sometimes.

I hope you were nice to Tabitha.… Or it will be pet cemet­ary all over again!

Oh yes. I for­got the con­nota­tions attached with those felines and 9 (?) lives. Do bury her prop­erly. Or else…
…well…

Tabitha is finally at peace.

x

Damn, did you already eat the Whiskas? I’ve run out, and I don’t want to have to kill my cat which I may have to do quite soon if he doesn’t stop going on about how he’s starving to death NOW!

Per­haps you should con­sider giv­ing her a little to take to ‘the other side’ because in cat heaven (or hell) there may not be such lux­ur­ies as milk and whiskas.

Just a thought.

Whiskas. It was never a very ori­ginal name for a cat.