grUeBERfest 2009 ROUND 2 - Cats (631 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.79 on 37 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (View user info) at 2009-10-15 11:55:44 EDT
"I'm fuckin bored, man." Mailer was sitting behind the wheel of the old Impala, trying to get a decent signal on the AM radio.
Budding spoke up from the back seat. "Maybe if you got a MP3 player or satellite radio we could—"
"Fuck that," Mailer snapped. "You got no fuckin taste, bitch. That radio is stock. Stock, motherfucker. This car's older than the Vietnam War. It's a classic."
In the passenger seat Ives laughed as he cracked open another beer. "Let's have another slice," he said.
Budding opened the pizza box, releasing the rich scents of fresh pineapple and cooked ham. He passed a slice over the seat, careful to use a paper plate in case Mailer went off again. Christ, it was like drinking with somebody's mom in this car.
It was Saturday night in San Ramon and absolutely fuck all was going on. Mailer, Budding and Ives had been doing this same shit since high school. Get drunk. Steal some shit. Sell the shit they stole. Maybe get laid. Maybe start a fight. Go home to mom and dad. Sleep it off. Hope their parents didn't start in with that get-a-job shit in the morning.
Last weekend they'd grabbed a huge baggie of weed off of some nigger in a big coat. Budding had said it looked like the motherfucker was going on a trip to the Artic.
They sat in silence.
Ives mentioned the times when they would go up into Garin Regional Park after dark, after the Ranger had gone home. They'd drink beer and bullshit each other. It was becoming a regular event until the night they heard a weird-ass moan and a low coughing sound. A couple of mountain lion attacks had been on the TV and when they heard that noise Mailer, Budding and Ives had nearly shit themselves. Those hills were mountain lion territory. They'd piled into the car and Mailer had peeled out of there, scattering gravel and raising a dust cloud. As they had driven away Ives had looked back and watched a guy come out of the public toilet near the visitor information booth. The guy was carrying a bottle, and he bent over, spraying puke all over himself.
Sitting in Mailer's Impala, they all laughed at the memory.
They had never gone back, though.
"We could go grab some more shit from that auto parts yard down on Depot road," Budding said.
"Forget that," Mailer said. "I nearly ripped my balls off climbing those fences last time. Those new fences they put up are unreal. What the fuck do they need fences like that for? Like anyone would want to steal that junk anyway."
Ives laughed at that. Mailer and Budding stared at him.
You guys really are as thick as shit, Ives thought. But then, they always had booze, or weed. And there was no way in hell a chubby guy who was a few quesadillas away from being fat as fuck was going to score any ass unless it was their sloppy seconds.
"I say we go into Hayward and grab some more weed off some jig." Mailer had actually seemed to enjoy the beat down he gave to the last guy they ripped off, the Artic Explorer.
"Nuh-uh," Budding said, shaking his head. "Once in a while, yeah, but we just did that. We'll have the NAACN on our asses if we go back and roll another guy too soon."
Whenever they saw more than two or three black guys hanging on a corner Budding used his National Association of Absolutely Crazy Niggers line. He came up with it a while ago, after the three of them had been jumped by what seemed like a thousand black guys on a dark corner in Cherryland. They'd been making a legitimate buy then, for fuck sake.
"Well then, I wouldn't mind stopping by the Taco Bell on Mission," Mailer said, caressing the steering wheel. "You seen that hot Mex milfacita that's working there at night? The one with the pony tail down to her ass? She's probably thirty but she's got a mouth you wouldn't believe, dude, and a huge rack."
"Forget it," Budding said with authority. "Mexican girls don't do blowjobs."
Mailer turned in his seat. "What?"
"Latinas don't suck dick. They're all Catholic. Jesus won't let them take a dick in the mouth."
Ives said, "They get a mouthful of His flesh when they take Communion, though."
This seemed to confuse Budding and Mailer. Ives let it go. A moment later he said, "What about that old fucker on Palomares Road?"
Budding and Mailer looked at Ives.
"You know. The guy with all the tarps," Ives said.
Two weeks ago they had been driving the tight curves of Palomares after dark. They had pulled down a winding drive on the edge of a drop so Ives could piss. Ives swore that on the far side of that narrow ravine among the house and the overgrowth and all the sheds and whatever covered in tarps was a nice crop of marijuana.
Budding opened a beer. "Who?"
"Cat Man," Ives said.
"Oh shit, yeah," Budding laughed.
While Ives had been pissing, Budding and Mailer had watched at least a dozen cats come and go, trotting across the ravine over a short bridge.
"Wish I had my twenty-two," Budding had said then. "Would be fun."
Budding's .22 was in the back seat now. When worst came to worst, plinking at empty PBR cans was better than nothing.
"No shit," Mailer had agreed. He fuckin hated cats. Hated 'em.
"I'm pretty sure I saw pot growing behind his house," Ives said now. "He's probably got a stash of cash if he's selling, or some weed ready to go."
Budding nodded and grinned. "And we could like, fuckin do some plinking at his cats."
Mailer laughed as he started the car. "It's quieter and more fun to just step on their backs and break their spines."
They stopped at a gas station and got beer and smokes, and twenty minutes later they were moving down the narrow ribbon of Palomares Road.
Soon Mailer pulled over, just down the road from the driveway and the ten feet of old redwood planks that was like a drawbridge over the deep ravine. They got out of the car under a bright waxing moon. Mailer grabbed a six pack, Budding got his .22 rifle and Ives munched on the last Hawaiian slice.
All of them were a little drunk. All of them cracked open fresh beers.
They could see part of the house through the heavy growth of trees on either side of the road. If they went a half mile in either direction they might find a small vineyard, a family home on a well-tended spread, or a meth lab in an old mobile home tucked out of sight. Tucked between high, rugged hills not far from Garin Park, the secluded twists and turns of Palomares Road could hide anything.
It wasn't thirty seconds before Budding spotted a fluffy white cat. It was staring at them from the other side of the ravine.
Budding fired three quick shots. The first struck the rocky edge of the ravine and ricocheted away into the night. The second snapped a tree branch above the already running cat. The third sent it tumbling into shadows.
"What the fuck," Ives said. "You want the cops here? Knock that shit off."
Budding shrugged and grinned.
"No, he's right," Mailer said. "Let's score some pot."
They crossed the bridge and went down a winding dirt road, passing some of the tarp covered objects. They stopped at the edge of the wide gravel yard when they saw the house and the numerous smaller squares and rectangles covered with nylon and canvas tarps. Most of the objects were three feet high, of varying lengths and widths. Under a few tarps they could see slats of wood. The run-down house was partly shaded from the moonlight by high, close trees that encircled the old home in a rough perimeter
"Weird," Mailer said.
Budding pointed ahead with the barrel of the .22 and whispered, "Shit, look, that's a fuckin motherlode."
Tall grass grew at the edge of the gravel yard. Sprouting from grass were dandelions and other wildflowers as well as a clusters of plants half-hidden by the house and growing with the wildness of weeds. They wound around the tarp-covered structures and spread to the overgrowth of trees behind the house, old pines that were that were dark despite the brightness of the moon.
They began crossing the gravel yard. At least a dozen house cats of every color suddenly burst from cover in the tall grass and ran for the trees. Budding raised the .22 and Mailer grabbed the barrel.
"You outta your mind, bitch? We're right in front of the old man's front door."
"So fuckin what," Budding said, "You think he's gonna call the cops with all that pot growing here?"
"It isn't pot," Ives said. "Goddamn it."
"Fuck you," Budding said, "I can smell it."
"You aren't smelling bud, Budding." Ives stepped closer to the confusion of weeds. "What you smell is this cleome shit. My moms has it growing in the back yard. And this too." He kicked at the bright green leaves of a short plant. "Fuckin catnip. My sister grows it in a flowerbox for her cat."
A gray and black striped tabby crept out from the weeds near Ives. He jumped back when he heard a sharp crack and saw one of the cat's eyes burst from its head. The cat fell on one side, blood pouring from its nose and mouth.
"For fuck sake," Mailer said. "You—"
A light came on over the front door of the house and the screen door creaked open. An old man wearing slippers, boxers and a filthy bathrobe stepped onto the porch. He put on a pair of glasses with one hand, holding something long and slender at his side with the other. He looked at the three young men on his property, and at the dead cat.
"What are you doing?" His voice was as rusty as the spring on the screen door. He took a step and began raising the long thing in his hand.
Budding's face was as white as the moon. He pivoted on one heel and shot the man.
A flap of skin opened like a door as the bullet hit the man's left cheek and fragmented. The left side of his nose was sliced open and his plastic horn-rimmed glasses shattered where the left stem was joined to the rim.
The man took another step and fell down the porch stairs. The cane he had been holding clattered on the porch.
"Oh fuck," Ives said. He felt like he was going to be sick.
"We're out," Mailer said. He sounded completely calm.
Budding stepped close to the man and watched blood pour from the cheek laceration.
Ives started walking back to the car.
A cat with a short gray and white coat came pushed the screen door open and hissed. It must have weighed twenty pounds. It arched its back and moved between the old man and Budding.
Holding the .22 at his side, Budding pointed at the cat and laughed.
The cat lashed out. It had long legs and a long reach. It sliced open the entire length of Budding's finger.
"Fucking bitch," Budding said. He grabbed the rifle by the stock, raised it, and drove it down on the cat.
At the same time the old man mumbled "Leave my cats alone," and pushed the gray and white cat aside. The butt of the .22 slammed down on the old man's arm and something snapped.
The gray and white cat latched onto Budding's left leg and began biting through his jeans. Budding let out a shout.
Mailer kicked the cat hard, and it flopped onto the ground. Then he began stomping it into the gravel at his feet.
Ives watched all of this with his mouth hanging open.
When he was done with the cat Mailer said, "You call the fuckin cops and we'll be back, old man."
"Don't need the police," the old man wheezed. He was still bleeding from the cheek and he winced as he cradled his broken arm. "Gonna get my cats after you."
Budding, examining the deep scratches on his leg, let out a braying laugh.
The old man made a clicking, snicking sound with his tongue against his teeth. Then his head slumped and he was either dead or unconscious.
"Oh no," Budding said, "The kitties are gonna eat us alive!"
Mailer didn't laugh. He'd had enough. "Let's go."
They began a fast walk toward the short bridge.
Ives thought he saw something moving near the ground ahead of them, slinking through shadows dappled with moonlight.
Mailer tensed, and then took a step backward. He had the sharpest instincts of the three.
The shape Ives had seen silently moved into the moonlight. It was a mountain lion. It didn't roar, but as it moved in on them it was releasing a percolating, rumbling sound. To Ives it sounded like a really loud purr. Mailer thought it sounded like an idling diesel engine.
Budding wasn't hearing anything aside from a high-pitched whine in his ears that began as his heart slammed into overdrive. The mountain lion was looking right at him.
The big cat stood three feet high at the shoulders. It's ear flattened back on it's head and it hunkered down, muscles bunching tight.
Budding started to raise the .22 but the cat was already leaping and in his face, almost two hundred pounds slamming into him as its jaws locked down on his throat. He landed on his back and would have had the wind knocked out of him if his throat wasn't clamped shut.
The cat didn't tear or chew the tender flesh in its jaws.
Ives saw Budding looking right at him.
Budding's eyes were bloodshot and his face was turning purple in the stark light of the moon. One of Budding's hands was reaching for him and his lips were moving, but he wasn't making a sound. The cat was standing over Budding on the gravel drive, legs wide, head bent low. It applied more pressure to the killing bite.
Ives heard a gristly crunch and his stomach clenched. He couldn't see any blood, but Budding was still staring at him and Mailer—
Mailer was running full tilt for the bridge. He had just seen what Ives was oblivious to; two more mountain lions had appeared, slipping out from under tarps. Those slatted, covered squares and rectangles were fucking houses or dens for the cats, like they were the old man's pets.
Ives turned back to the cat as it opened its jaws, releasing Budding's neck. It circled Budding once, and then sat beside him. Budding wasn't moving at all.
Motion to one side made Ives turn. Two mountain lions were running past him, after Mailer. Ives was sure Mailer would make it across the little bridge when the cats suddenly poured on the speed.
One of the cats swiped a paw the size of a baseball glove at Mailer's thigh. A flap of marbled red meat hung loosely from his leg and he screamed.
Ives thought it looked like something that should be on a supermarket shelf, wrapped in plastic.
Mailer turned and punched the mountain lion on the nose. The cat snarled and backed off just as the second mountain lion slid to a stop and reared up on its hind legs.
For a moment he cat stood almost as tall as Mailer. It brought one of those huge paws down across Mailer's face, tearing off his nose, both lips and the flesh of his jaw. Blood soaked into Mailer's t shirt.
To Ives it looked as if Mailer was grinning at him in the moonlight.
The cat reared up again. Inhaling his own blood and coughing, Mailer grabbed the mountain lion, seemed to embrace it, and then they both tumbled into the narrow ravine.
Ives let out a whimpering sound and ran for the trees behind the house.
He could hear the padded yet heavy footfall of a big cat pursuing him. In a blind panic Ives ran into one of the pines and started to climb. Something stabbed into one leg. He fell to the ground and watched the cat take a step back and prepare to pounce. Sitting on his ass, Ives swung at the mountain lion with one fist like Mailer had done. He swung and missed. He threw a handful of dirt at the cat's face. The cat sneezed and shook its head and backed off. He got to his feet and was about to run again when another big cat slammed him against the tree.
Ives screamed as heavy forepaws dropped onto his shoulders, the claws digging deep into flesh and muscle. The cat's body seemed hunched up as it clung to him. It was incredibly heavy but Ives struggled to stay on his feet. He pushed his body back against the tree, thinking that if he fell down now he was dead.
The mountain lion's rear paws began scrabbling at his stomach.
It's trying to climb me, Ives thought.
Thick claws shredded his shirt, snapped his leather belt in two, and tore open his jeans. Those claws slashed at him like knives, tearing at him from nipples to groin.
Ives realized too late what the big cat was doing.
The flesh of his lower torso was ripped open and there was an incredible flare of pain. The big cat bounded away. The pain faded and in its place was an odd sense of lightness, as if Ives had just lost the familiar weight his small beer belly.
He had.
His feet were warm and wet. Ives leaned back against the rough trunk of the pine and looked down. Beneath the arc of his ribcage his gut was torn open like a paper bag. His entrails lay on his feet, steaming in the cool night air. He could see chewed pizza crust and mashed pineapple in that mess, his last meal. As shock numbed his mind he raised his arm, his hand probing the hollow in his torso. He looked at his watch.
It was only an hour since they had first talked about coming up to the mountain and fucking with the old man. An hour. He looked up at the moon, and then saw the cats that had attacked him sitting like sphinxes and watching him. As he sank to his knees the big cats got up and came closer.
...
Mailer heard a long, escalating shriek from Ives and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back. He could see the edge of the narrow ravine twenty feet above, and beyond that, the moon.
The cat that had fallen with him was dead. They were lying on a jumble of junk that had been tossed into the ravine. A rusted metal bar protruded from the dead cat.
He had landed on something broad and smooth. His neck felt weird. He couldn't move his legs or his right arm, and only had the slightest bit of feeling in his left hand. It felt like smooth metal under his fingers.
I'm lying on a fucking fridge, he thought.
Mailer couldn't feel any pain besides an odd tightness in his neck. He could raise his head just enough to see he was covered in cuts and scratches and soaked in his own blood.
I'm gonna make it out of here, he thought. I'm going to get through this.
He saw movement at the edge of the ravine. Something, some things silhouetted by the moon, were climbing down toward him.
When they were close enough Mailer saw that they were house cats, ten or more. They sniffed at him and batted at him with their tiny paws and walked across his body and his face.
"Fuck off!"
The cats scrambled away, some of then hissing at Mailer.
After a minute or so the cats near Mailer came back.
More of them began carefully climbing down into the ravine.
Mailer was surrounded by small cats.
One of them started to lap up his spilled blood.
A short time later they began to eat, ignoring Mailer's screams.
User Reviews
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-10-18 14:07:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-10-18 09:44:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2009-10-17 15:48:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i don't know jack...
it was pretty well written. and surprisingly enough, considering your usual typo littered offerings, fairly error free as well.
but this just never grabbed me. decent enough idea, i guess, but it just seemed like you led to it for too long and then the payoff wasn't what it could have been.
*shrugs*
'eh' for effort (more than i've put in on uber in years anyway).
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2009-10-17 05:15:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 20:35:04 BST (#)
Ranking: 0
Joey, I think your last one will be the best of the whole contest.
Unless you top it.
No pressure, right?
--------------------
I've got a few ideas I'm tossing around in my mind, but a snake with a human head that chews up someone's testicles was one I was particularly proud of. I asked a lady work colleague to read it before I posted. Her expression was priceless, but she's avoided me ever since.
Can't think why.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2009-10-16 21:29:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
ubmitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-16 18:00:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
*sits back in chair and lights cigarette*
***
*looks at his red and swollen hand and wishes he had used a paddle for the spanking*
Submitted by paxilliona (user info) at 2009-10-16 18:19:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That sentence below must be up for an award for the longest in history.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-16 18:00:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
*sits back in chair and lights cigarette*
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-16 17:56:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-16 14:53:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
It was a stupid plotline.
--
No argument here.
But it beats the hell out of the tired old 'whoops, omigosh I, uh, got called out of town at the last minute' excuse.
Why not just forfeit? Do you really think we will care why you caved and were completely and utterly incapable of throwing together and submitting even a single page of text (as Snark and Forensic did, for example, to the entertainment of many) despite your self-proclaimed superior writing skills? We don't care.
We don't care at all.
You must remember that this is just a pointless internet story-writing contest without reward or recognition, waged on a near-forgotten, rarely visited backwater of a website where feuds are drawn out over the generations and insignificant battles are waged far from the centers of learning and light and all that is good, and here men rise and here men fall and women brutally fuck all of them over without mercy, and there is suffering and there is strife, and appallingly nefarious plots are hatched by sinister schemers in disguise, and bitterly shallow things that will turn on their friends and brothers in an instant lurk in the shadows, and backstabbing is a way of life and mob rule holds sway over all, and the bovine dwellers of that place speak in vile obscenities and roar with laughter over the disfigured and the disabled and the disenfranchised, and these impotent miscreants and gasconades bloated with their own self-importance shamble through gutters thick with filth and overflowing with inhuman suffering, and that is the way of things in this loathsome yet addictive venue, and that is the way things will continue to be, as they have been year after year, until that distant, prophesied day when one man, ONE SINGLE MAN masters his own fears and weaknesses and delves deep within his own self to discover the forgotten Steele forged of humility and empathy and most righteous rage that was inside him all along and somehow finds the courage to stand tall and rise above it all and walk forth fearlessly in his seemingly impossible quest to Take Back Uber for the sake of all of us, every one, and that man's name is... KAOS KING!
{cue theme music}
{roll opening credits}
See?
That's almost a full page of text in Word.
It's that easy.
But I guess you really, really had to 'run out of town.'
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-16 17:53:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
*clear throat*
ahem...
*flexes fingers*
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-10-16 17:53:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 16:15:42 PDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, this story is something of an obvious inside joke. Some people didn't get it, though.
-------
Ubersite sure loves their inside jokes, thats for sure
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-16 14:53:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Submitted by willartstorg (user info) at 2009-10-16 00:38:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Assholes like this are what fucks Uber. Not rating the post. Just STFU, no 1, you know I'm right.
=======================
How so? I rated the post, not the poster. If I was rating the poster it would have been a -2. As it is, this was a -1 "I've seen better". It was entirely predictable, so no suspense. It was a stupid plotline. And the character dialogue was horrible. Jack really has to work on that. Everyone one of his characters in every story uses the same foul-mouthed style of dialogue, and has similiar traits. Maybe if Jack actually interacted with other people instead of just cats, he'd be able to diversify his characters with different syles of speech and different motivations.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2009-10-16 04:31:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by willartstorg (user info) at 2009-10-16 00:38:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-15 17:29:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
This should have been titled Fury of the Feline Frauliens : Fantasies of an Outsider
=========
Assholes like this are what fucks Uber. Not rating the post. Just STFU, no 1, you know I'm right.
-------------------
Dude, first golf is for attention seekers and now this mad comment?
As a serious point, what exactly is going on inside your head and do you take medicine for it? I am not pissing about, I am genuinely curious.
Submitted by willartstorg (user info) at 2009-10-16 00:38:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-15 17:29:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
This should have been titled Fury of the Feline Frauliens : Fantasies of an Outsider
=========
Assholes like this are what fucks Uber. Not rating the post. Just STFU, no 1, you know I'm right.
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2009-10-16 00:24:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fun read.
Submitted by TuTs (user info) at 2009-10-15 20:49:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Though I will be tonight.
Submitted by TuTs (user info) at 2009-10-15 20:48:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked the other one better Jack, but condsidering I am not a drunken asshole today......
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2009-10-15 20:36:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
So, was this autobiographical?
I'll be honest. I didn't read word one of this thing.
Submitted by kittycat87 (user info) at 2009-10-15 19:36:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 19:15:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, this story is something of an obvious inside joke. Some people didn't get it, though.
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2009-10-15 18:57:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You sound like you know a bit about cats.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 18:42:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-14 16:49:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
meh, I was actually ogng to submit something, but then had o run out of town last week, and frankly didn't have time.
Submitted by Badlands (user info) at 2009-10-15 18:33:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was actually really great.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2009-10-15 17:50:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked the last one better, but this one was pretty great.
Submitted by no1hasdis (user info) at 2009-10-15 17:29:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
This should have been titled Fury of the Feline Frauliens : Fantasies of an Outsider
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2009-10-15 17:15:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Thought about ruining your streak with a hard core -2 but read the story and that's about the 4th post I've read on here in as many months.
You do realize that this does nothing but perpetuate the cat/Jack sex fantasy that the losers here fetish about, right?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 15:35:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Joey, I think your last one will be the best of the whole contest.
Unless you top it.
No pressure, right?
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2009-10-15 15:23:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Another piece of writing that shows why this site aint entirely dead after all.
Man, I'm fucking loving the stuff coming out of this contest.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-10-15 14:32:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
not a patch on my entry
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2009-10-15 14:30:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:08:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, they say write what you know...
=====================
HO HO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YOU SAY 'WHAT YOU KNOW' BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW YOU MAKE SEX WITH THE CATS!!
HO HO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IS FUNNY BECAUSE ONLY SORT OF TRUTH!!!
HO HO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
signed,
FWAD
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2009-10-15 14:17:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great imagery.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2009-10-15 14:06:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-10-15 13:19:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
shoulda given the punks all French names
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:59:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
was expecting a money-shot of a cat spraying sulfuric acid
Submitted by GroundHorse (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:47:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome.
Submitted by HateMudkips (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:40:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
lol
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2009-10-15 09:03:37 PDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It's cool that your cats took revenge for you getting all killed and stuff.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:08:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, they say write what you know...
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2009-10-15 12:03:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It's cool that your cats took revenge for you getting all killed and stuff.