I've come for the cat.
Something totally crazy happened this weekend! You probably won't believe me but I'm still going to tell you about it. I opened up my front door Saturday morning to find out what was causing such a racket and was confronted by some guy in what looked like fifth-century garb and armor with wild hair and an excessively annoyed look on his face.
I was made to understand through a combination of hand gestures and a bastardized mix of English and German on my part mixed with whatever antiquated language he happened to be speaking on his part that he wanted me to give him my cat, Stanley, the cat behind the cat that is my cat, Gerard Butler.
I pressed my luck. Are you the doctor? I asked. Have you come to take me away from this shitthole I live in all the way to the ends of the universe? He stared at me blankly. Obviously he was not the doctor.
My Saturday morning time-traveler also used this opportunity to tell me that he wanted any and all photographs of my cat, Stanley, the cat behind the cat that is my cat, Gerard Butler.
What is the world coming to?
I was made to understand through a combination of hand gestures and a bastardized mix of English and German on my part mixed with whatever antiquated language he happened to be speaking on his part that he wanted me to give him my cat, Stanley, the cat behind the cat that is my cat, Gerard Butler.
I pressed my luck. Are you the doctor? I asked. Have you come to take me away from this shitthole I live in all the way to the ends of the universe? He stared at me blankly. Obviously he was not the doctor.
My Saturday morning time-traveler also used this opportunity to tell me that he wanted any and all photographs of my cat, Stanley, the cat behind the cat that is my cat, Gerard Butler.
What is the world coming to?
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