Tattoo'd Jesus Freak, Letter 2 from Hell

Well, it’s me again, and life in hell is still an adventure.  And, yes, my daughter is still a star player.  My son, Jon, says she is just so…. “Random.”  I told her once she was incorrigible.  She said “What does that mean?”  Being Mom, I told her to look it up.  Okay - she Googled it, came back and said “Yep.  You’re right.” 

Emily is formidable on Google.  We have six cats, but I made the mistake of remarking during a conversation that I liked black and white cats, and I loved manxes.  “So you wouldn’t walk away from a black and white manx?”  “Probably not.”  My bad, thought I was safe.  Not only did she immediately run and Google up an available black and white manx, she had the freakin’ cat delivered to the door!  How?  What?  Crap.  Now we have seven cats.  And not all of them are happy cats.

My “friend” JohnBoy was hanging out, having some beers with his brother and some buddies.  A few too many beers if you ask me.  A very deep and meaningful question arose to the surface of the cesspool of their minds. 

“Ya know…” spoke one culprit “how if you spread peanut butter on bread and then drop it, it always lands peanut butter side down?”

“Yeah.” Chorus of agreement from other drunken fools.

“And ya know how if you drop a cat it always lands on its feet?”

“Yeah.”  Deep nods of wisdom, no doubt.

“So, what happens if you put peanut butter on a cat, and then drop it?”

“Well!” spoke up JohnBoy, always quick with a solution, “I know just who to ask.”

Of course, I learned of  this travesty much later, commuting to work, when I had JohnBoy trapped in the car - which is like confession time at a Catholic church.  “What the hell did you talk my children into this time?”

JohnBoy confessed that he didn’t remember which cat got the treatment, but yes, at his query (instigation) Emily did indeed put peanut butter on one of our big toms, lift him in the air and drop him.  Now mind you, JohnBoy is 55 years old, and Emily is 13 - there is no excuse for this.  Did that stop them?  Noooooo…. the cat landed on his feet, but was too stupid to run.  So they decided that to get him to fall on his back, more peanut butter was required.  The airborne kitty still landed on his feet.

When a piece of bread stuck on top failed to topple the kitty, they determined the experiment over, gave the cat a bath (I’m sure he was delighted) and set him free.  Of course I gave JohnBoy and Emily both a piece of my mind about torturing animals.  Then I asked Emily which cat.  Well, of course, it was my cat, Alfie.  I asked her why not her cat, Mike?  She was quite indignant.  “I wouldn’t do that to MY cat.”

Sigh....