Friday, February 15, 2013

Explanations, Tears, Hopes, and Possibilities

Explanations, Tears, Hopes, and Possibilities

Hello old friends.  Hopefully there are still a few out there who remember this poor old neglected blog. There was a time when The Fictitious Cat popped back briefly on your radar screens back in 2012 with a post that threw some more humor at you and attempted to glaze over the large gulf between posts with a laugh.  It was a post that promised more to come.  A promise that failed to deliver.  Immediately. There was a moment in that post when I dropped the persona of Neyland D. Catt and explained that it had been a difficult time in real life and that maybe someday I would share that, but not that day.  Well, today is the day.

The time in between posts was marked by the loss of my dear sister.  It was a loss that rocked me to my foundations.  That was followed quickly by the loss of a dear uncle.  And also along the way, we lost Neyland.  I posted that return post in an attempt to move beyond tragedy and have a laugh again.  I figured I would carry on the blog as though Neylo were still around and nobody ever needed to be the wiser.  It was, to say the least, a bit premature.  There were other family tragedies and trials in there as well that I won't discuss because they are either too personal for me or my lovely wife.

Now then.  Time has rocketed forward in double or triple time and I have changed with it.  Not all in the recent past is tragedy and loss.  I found in awe and majesty the grace of Jesus Christ.  This isn't a blog about religion, so I'm not going to bash you over the head with my beliefs, however, in this rare, raw moment of writing as Bryan and not a fictitious cat, I will not hide from them either.  My time has been occupied with weightier matters, but God has also led me to a point where its OK to have a laugh again.  This period also saw us welcome into the world our amazing daughter!  She is truly a wonder and a blessing.  It was her reactions to a few of the cats that made me consider doing something with the old blog again.

We have also found ourselves graced (most certainly in their own minds) by the presence of a few new cats as well.  We lost Neyland and little Gracie, but gained Ulysses S. Catt, Miss Kitty Fantastico (yeah, a blatant Buffy rip-off), Luna the lunatic, and a whole clan of cats who don't live WITH us, but we inherited with the property.  I would greatly enjoy telling you all about Zira the cross-eyed cat.  But, Uli (as I call Ulysses) is the new star of the cat show.  He is an absolute beast of a cat who showed up not long after Neyland departed.  Quite honestly, he is like Neyland 2.0 in many ways.*

All of this has added up to the point that I'm still convinced that there is a great deal of humorous events in our world and that they can explained from the viewpoint of a snarky cat.  I'd like to continue the blog for that purpose and simply because it was FUN.  I'm not sure yet what that would look like though.  I have plenty of stories to tell.  They're all rattling around in my head.  I'd like nothing more than to let them out.  Hopefully, that will begin on as regular as possible a basis soon.  I can't and won't offer promises at this point.  Only my hopes and the very real possibilities.

At any rate, I felt that I at least owed you all some sort of explanation for the erratic posting of hopefully enjoyable tales over the years.  This post may yet turn out to be nothing more than a blip on your busy schedules that goes unnoticed.  I understand if that is the case.  Nevertheless, I have honored some small promise at least.  This is the real story behind the fictitious cat.

Best regards,

aka Big Pinkie

*Seriously, you didn't think I could go a whole post without one of these little asides did you?  It's my schtick.  The only time I could really be me in the midst of Neylo's crazy mixed-up writings!!  And seriously, Uli is like 2 of Neyland.  He's freakishly huge.  He has the paws of a Titan.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Would You Believe Me If I Told You I Was Abducted By Aliens?

Well?  Would you?  If the answer is yes, then I totally was.  Big green, hairless aliens with arms where their legs should be and legs where their arms should be.  If you wouldn't believe me about the aliens, then I've been missing all this time because I was Charlie Sheen's Personal Assistant.*  So... how's it going?  Um... the spouse and kids all okay?  Er... well... this is just awkward.  Here's the deal.  I'm a cat.  We are fickle creatures.  Do I really need a reason other than my felinity to explain a brief absence from the interwebs?**

I've had other things to do man!  Bigger fish to fry!  Mmmm... fish fry.  Sorry, I digress.  There have been legions of fans beating on the front door every day wanting to know what happened to ole Neyland D. Catt.***  I have a life too people!  I have big dreams and not enough time!  But becaue you all demanded it...  I am back.****  Big Pinkie too, and apparently he brought the asterix thingies with him.  Anyway, I have a lot to tell you all in coming days.  New cats here at the Homestead for Wayward Strays, tons of titillating tales, updates on what's been going on, and a Baby Pinky!  Stay tuned.  You'll be glad you did.  Now, read on, because Big Pinky has some words.

                                                                      ---Neyland D. Catt

*He really did apply.  I have to think he was in the top 5 and probably as qualified as anyone.
**Brief absence you say?  It was at least a year.  Cats have no concept of time.  They measure it in naps.
***It was only one guy.  The mailman.
****You all demanded it.  And we thank you.  Both of you.

So.  It's been a while.  I can't begin to tell you all that has happened since last you read a new post here.  I won't even try.  I will let Neyland do the talking for me, in a fictitious, feline, and hopefully amusing way.  If you really want to know the major reason for the lapse in posting, I may share someday, but not today.  Today is about the return of an old friend.  Mine, and hopefully yours.  There really are a lot of words ready to hit the screen.  Most of them will be Neylo's.  Mine will be after the asterixes.

                                                                       --Bryan aka Big Pinkie

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Karlton The Christmas Kitty - Part Four

We hope you'll pardon the lateness of this, the final part of Neyland's Christmas short story.  It turned out to be an epic White Christmas in our neck of the woods, the first in many, many, many years.  Needless to say, this has caused some hullaballoo and hubbub.*  Everyone has now been subdued, calmed down and returned to their senses.**  So, on to the conclusion of...

Karlton The Christmas Kitty
Neyland D. Catt

     The tiny little fru-fru fellows dressed in their green jumpers didn't seem bothered by Karlton's threat of violence and impending gastric absorption.  They just smirked back at him and slowly advanced.  Karlton, suddenly unsure of himself in the face of so many elves, started backing away until he bumped against the sled.  He found himself surrounded on all sides, as even the reindeer joined the circle with their disapproving stares.  Karlton dropped into his fighting crouch, prepared to take out as many of the little people as he could.  He paused, as the gathered throng parted, and a large figure strode forward out of the shadows.
     There before Karlton stood perhaps the largest woman he had ever seen in his life.  She was the size of three regular women all rolled into one plump form.  She had curly hair of the purest white and rosy red cheeks that framed a gentle smile.  She wore a well-used cooking apron over the top of her red robes trimmed in white.  Karlton suspected there my be some connection between this jumbo lady and the tubby thief he had left on the rooftop.  The large woman put her hands on her hips and leaned down to peer at Karlton with a slight grin.

     "Well, well.  What do we have here?  It's an adorable little kitty," she said in a slightly jolly manner.

     Karlton stared up at her uncertainly.  Then, the old instincts kicked in.  Suddenly, he was lying on his back in the snow, his underside exposed and all four legs in the air.  He turned his giant doe-eyes to the lady and squeaked a pitiful sound that would have made even newborn babies whistle in admiration of its cuteness.  Also, he was suddenly rain-drenched and bedraggled.  (The elves would marvel at that one for hours later.)

     "Nice try Karlton.  That tired old routine doesn't work on old Mrs. Claus," the woman said with a chuckle.  "Do you have any idea how many cats I've had in my lifetime?  Heck, there's at least fifteen back in the house right now.  I'm immune to your tactics, so what do you say we head inside and have a genuine discussion about my husband's sleigh being here without him and your possible role in that?"

     Karlton blinked numbly and then gave a quick glance over to the gathered elves.  One of them made eye contact and gave him a look that said, Dude it's all totally true.  She's one of the world's first crazy cat ladies.  Karlton sighed and pulled himself up out of the snow.  Mrs. Claus turned and headed back toward the big building.  Karlton and a small army of elves followed.

     Inside, Karlton was lead to a toasty little sitting room with a wood heater and two comfy reading chairs.  Mrs. Claus' massive girth settled over one of them.  She gestured for Karlton to take the other.  He briefly entertained the notion of hopping up into her lap in an attempt to subdue her with warmth and a rumbling purr.  Something about her eyes told him that would not be an effective stratagem.  He shrugged and hopped up into the empty chair.

     Mrs. Claus sipped from a steaming cup of tea that had turned up rather unexpectedly.  She watched Karlton from over the rim for a moment.  He felt, quite correctly, that she was taking measure of him.  It was a most disconcerting feeling.  He was quite unable to meet her gaze.

     "So.  I'm sure there is a reasonable, or at least entertaining, explanation for what has happened to my husband.  However, at this point it is really not important.  What is important is that you understand the consequences of Santa Claus being stranded on a rooftop while his sleigh and all the gifts are back here at the North Pole," Mrs. Claus intoned amiably.

     This caught Karlton rather off guard.  This was not at all the situation he had expected.  He had heard legends about Santa Claus, of course, but on the street you just didn't have time for believing in fairy tales.  You were too busy trying to convince anyone who had an extra tin of tuna to believe in your fairy tale.  This had started out simply enough.  Karlton had thought the guy was just a thief!  He had no idea that he had car-jacked the legendary spirit of Christmas!

     Karlton saw from Mrs. Claus' expression that understand without a word being spoken.  She smiled at him and nodded.  Karlton wasn't sure if he felt more fear or respect for the hefty mistress of the frozen north.  She gave him a look that said either would do nicely.

     "So, I gather things got out of hand at some point and you ended up alone in the sleigh with panicked reindeer?" Mrs. Claus inquired.  Karlton nodded.  "They are trained to return home immediately in case of an emergency.  I suppose they must have thought this qualified.  Not to worry!  This can all be sorted out in time to save Christmas for the children.  We just need to get you back in the sleigh and on your way to Santa."

     Karlton gave the woman a quizzical look.  She chuckled and got up from her chair.  She then motioned for Karlton to follow her.

     "Of course I could fly the sleigh back myself, but that just wouldn't do.  Oh no, I'm afraid that since you started this mess, its yours to sort out.  I'll just have a word with the reindeer and they'll take you back straightaway."

     An hour later, Karlton sat on the edge of the roof.  Santa was next to him, his legs dangling over the edge as he sipped a cup of hot cocoa.  The reindeer were now obliviously chomping on apples, all thoughts of Karlton long since gone.  Santa looked down at Karlton and gave him a reassuring smile.

     "No worries little buddy.  There's still plenty of time to hand out the rest of the gifts.  The schedule is not quite as tight this year, due to a 25% increase in naughtiness.  You know, there's plenty of room for you back at the North Pole," he said.  Karlton gave him a hopeful look.  "Although, everyone has to earn their way at the shop.  I think I might just have an idea."

     Karlton thought about this.  Earning his keep?  He'd never held down a steady job before.  He'd never had any intention of it.  Still, it was warm and cozy in that big house.  Plus, he'd been living with celebrities, even if nobody over the age of five thought they were real.  Fifteen other cats.  A family.  Karlton looked up at Santa and gave him a firm nod.  The jolly old elf grinned from ear to ear.

     "Excellent!  Come with me.  We have one stop to make back at the North Pole!  You're going to love this!"  Santa exclaimed as he practically ran for the sleigh.

     Just before dawn, Mr. Williford T. Piggles stretched and stumbled back into the den.  He nearly lost his tuna at what he saw there.  He ducked behind the door frame and watched in genuine amazement as two figures placed gaily-wrapped gifts under the Christmas Tree.  One was a large, jolly man wearing a festive red suit trimmed with white.  The other was similarly dressed, but much smaller.  It appeared to be a cat!  While the man was jolly and festive, the cat couldn't help looking arrogant and slightly shifty.  The cat turned and caught Mr. Piggles staring.  It was Karlton!  He gave a wink and tossed Mr. Piggles a tin of tuna with his name on it.  Then, as quick as a wink, the two figures were gone up the chimney in a flash.

     Mr. Piggles ran as fast as his chubby legs could carry him, which admittedly wasn't very fast.  He did make it to the window in time to see two sleighs pull away from the rooftop.  One carried Santa and was pulled by eight tiny reindeer.  One carried Karlton and was pulled by eight angry squirrels.  Karlton looked back over his shoulder as he flew away and called, "Meowrry Christmas tubby!  To all a warm night!"  Mr. Piggles returned to the den, a kilowatt smile on his face.  He opened the large package addressed to him to find the largest and pinkest cat bed he had ever seen.



Hope you guys enjoyed this little holiday tale!  We will be back tomorrow with more wintry goodness!

---Neyland D. Catt

*Hullaballoo is not so bad on its own, but when you add hubbub to mix, watch out!  If you don't know what these words mean... join the crowd.

**Subdued, calmed down, and returned to their senses by a combination of: threats of physical violence, hot apple cider, home-made fudge, and actual physical violence.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Karlton The Christmas Kitty - Part Three


Karlton The Christmas Kitty
Neyland D. Catt

     There's a thief in here! thought Karlton.  A big fat, thief dressed up in a funny red and white costume!  And he's muscling in on my territory!  The aforementioned fat guy, one Mr. Claus, was in fact a jolly old elf who delivered gifts to good children every Christmas.  Hard to see how someone went down that career path, but to each his own.  The jolly old elf was, at that particular moment, frantically patting down his own derriere in an attempt to put out flames.  Apparently, he had not properly checked the status of the fireplace before popping in with his big sack of gifts.

     Karlton watched with a mix of amusement and anger as Santa finally managed to, quite literally, save his own behind.  The fat man sighed and dropped into an easy chair, panting heavily.  Karlton knew that he couldn't take on the thief head to head.  There had to be another way.  His eyes glinted with glee when he spotted Santa's sack of gifts, forgotten in the rush to put out his hindquarters.  This may just work out even better, Karlton thought.  This guy has already racked up some loot.  What better justice than to rob a thief?

     Karlton was a grey blur as he darted from the fluffy pink cat bed and slipped inside the overstuffed bag of goodies.  He was somewhat bemused to find more of the strangely wrapped parcels.  He was even more bemused when the fat man's chubby hands started rummaging around in the bag clumsily.  Karlton fought back the urge to hiss, but the claws were out immediately.  The fat man exclaimed "Aha!" and withdrew a package from the sack.  Karlton sat, puzzled, in the darkness of his cloth hideout.  It was beyond him why the thief would take anything out of the bag.  His musings were interrupted as felt the entire sack being lifted from the floor.  He barely managed to keep down a squeak as the sack was hefted over the fat man's shoulder.  There was a strange tingling sensation, a momentary feeling of weightlessness, and then he heard the soft crunch of snow.  Back in the den, Mr. Piggles watched the scene in awe and then piddled slightly on the floor.

     Inside the sack, Karlton strained to hear some sign of what was going on outside.  He heard some muffled grunts and something that may have been snorting.  Finally, the curiosity was too much.  He poked his head out from the sack to behold yet another startling scene.  There was a large red sled with heaps of sacks just like the one he was in.  Attached to this sled, were what he recognized as eight skinny cows with horns.  The fat man was scooting around in the snow covering the rooftop, steam rising in a trail behind him.  This whole deal is starting to go south faster than a retired Yankee, Karlton thought.  Time to bail.  

     What happened next can only be described as ludicrous.  An attempt will be made to describe it nonetheless.  Karlton leapt from the bag, fully intending to clear the sled entirely and land in the soft snow.  This didn't quite happen.  He undershot his jump and was forced to land on the harness rigging directly between two of the horned cows.  The cows both turned to him simultaneously and bellowed in surprise.  Karlton responded with the time-honored and tested stratagem of all felines: he bowed his back and hissed loudly.  The cows, as a group, then all began to bellow and started a frantic gallop.  It wasn't a terribly large rooftop.  This fact was not lost on Karlton, who began to shriek and leapt back into the sled.  He watched from the seat, his ears pinned back in terror, as the stampeding skinny cattle reached the edge.  And flew.

     Karlton and the reindeer with a case of mistaken identity were all screaming loudly as they lifted off from the rooftop, leaving a trail of snow in their wake.  The most disturbing fact was that the flying sled was now not only gaining in altitude, but speed as well.  Lot of speed.  Karlton's ears were now pinned back not by fear, but by momentum.  He looked around frantically for a brake, but his search was rendered pointless when the sled, reindeer, and Karlton all rocketed away in a flash of light, just like spaceships do in a poorly written science fiction film.  Down on the rooftop, Santa Claus watched the scene in distress and then piddled slightly on the roof.

     Karlton's eyes were dazzled and his vision was blurred for a few moments.  Then, there was another flash of light and the sled was suddenly in the frigid air above a snow-encrusted plain.  A small cluster of lights could be made out dimly on the horizon.  The reindeer now seemed much calmer and occasionally, one would sneak a dirty look back at Karlton, whose eyes were fixed on the cluster of lights that very quickly became closer.  After a minute, Karlton could see that it was a small settlement with an impressive collection of manufacturing buildings and warehouses, and one gaudily decorated three story building that seemed to be their destination.

     The sled slowed and circled three times before coming to a relatively gentle landing in front of the large building.  The reindeer all turned expectant eyes upon Karlton.  He eventually decided this meant the ride was over and hopped down from the sled.  He winced at the cold of the snow and did a bizarre little dance in an attempt to keep all four paws out of the snow simultaneously.  He stopped suddenly when the great double doors of the building opened up, spilling bright light out over the area.  He could just make out the silhouettes of dozens of figures descending the stairs toward him.  At last, his eyes adjusted and he beheld a gathering of tiny little humans wearing bright green coats with bright red hats and pointed boots that curled up on the end.  They were really short.  Almost... cat-sized.

     "Alright," Karlton said as he strode forward, a glint in his eye.  "Which one of you is gonna be dinner and which one is a snack?"



Come back tomorrow and unwrap your very special present from me... the final part of the Karlton's story!  It will make your Christmas even more Merry!!*

--Neyland D. Catt

*The Fictitious Cat does not guarantee the level of merriment.  Results may vary.

Karlton The Christmas Kitty - Part Two


Karlton The Christmas Kitty Part Two
Neyland D. Catt

     Mr. Piggles, the overweight dandy cat, sat staring in bug-eyed astonishment at Karlton, who was aware that the pampered mass of perfumed fur in front of him had probably never even seen a street cat.  He certainly wasn't accustomed to being spoken to in such a tone.  Karlton lazily flexed the claws on his right paw.  Those lovingly sharpened claws wordlessly spoke volumes about the various things they could shred.  Mr. Piggles seemed concerned that there might be a chapter in one of the volumes about chubby housecats.

     "I'll say this again.  Where do you keep the tuna around here?" Karlton drawled deliberately as he slowly dragged his fore-claw across the hardwood floor.

     "Listen old boy, I don't have access to the tuna.  I just eat it when the humans bring it out!  They're the ones you want to talk to!" Mr. Piggles squealed.

     "Oh I'll be dealing with them soon enough.  I'm pretty sure I can convince them to bring me as much tuna as my little tummy can handle," Karlton replied.

     "Oh!  You won't hurt them will you?" the fat little cat panted.

     "Hurt them?  No!  I have other methods," Karlton smirked.

     The sudden reappearance of the middle aged housewife caused hope and fear to mingle in Mr. Piggles' eyes like singles at an office party.  He darted a furtive glance over to Karlton, who was suddenly wide eyed and innocent.  He made his way over to the star-struck woman and Mr. Piggles couldn't help but notice that he had quite suddenly acquired a limp.  Kartlton then proceeded to weave his way in and out of the woman's legs, lovingly brushing against her with a loud purr.  Mr. Piggles merely stood with his jaw gaping open as the woman nearly swooned and rushed back into the kitchen muttering about treats and tuna.

     The instant the woman was gone, Karlton spun quickly and fixed the fat cat with a glare full of malice.  He sauntered over slowly, all traces of a limp left behind.  He placed a single, sharp claw on the tip of Mr. Piggles' nose.

     "I feel like a nap tubby.  Where's your bed?  I just know you have one," he said smoothly.

     Mr. Piggles led him to the den, trembling all the while.  He stopped in the doorway and gestured feebly inside.  Karlton stepped inside and then stopped short as he stared in wonder at the sight within.  The vast warm space was decorated ceiling-to-floor with bright sparkling lights and greenery intertwined with shiny balls of glass.  In the midst of the invitingly fluffy furniture was a tall evergreen tree.  This majestic fir was covered in glittering tinsel, dazzling multi-colored lights, and more balls of glass that shone like diamonds.  Beneath it were parcels wrapped in paper of mind-numbing patterns.

     Karlton was so entranced that he almost missed the deeply padded bed next to the tree.  It was pink.  He stood looking at the bed for a moment and then slowly turned an enquiring gaze to Mr. Piggles, who merely dropped his head and tried to appear interested in the grain pattern of the floor.  Karlton looked back to the bed, shrugged, and sauntered over to it.  He stepped inside and made the customary three turns before dropping into the lavish comfort.  There was a roaring fire in the fireplace on the other side of the bed.  Its heat instantly made Karlton's eyes begin to droop.  He smirked at Mr. Piggles and began the hour long process of cleaning his fur.

     Many hours later, Karlton was dozing contentedly, his belly full of tuna and milk.  Mr. Piggles was safely hidden away in the next room.  It would almost be too cliche, but not quite, to say that visions of sugarplums danced in Karlton's head.  He almost woke when a distant scrabbling sound from high above intruded on his slumber.  He merely shook it off and went back to sleep, however.  He was not so successful when a loud thump, followed in short order by a surprised yelp, broke the silence of the room.  His eyes snapped open instantly and all claws were at the ready.  He darted quick glances from side to side until he found the source of the sound.  He stared in amazement at the sight he saw there.  Standing next to the chimney was a short, round man dressed in red trimmed with white, frantically trying to douse the fire on his pants legs!


Part Three is coming right up!
--Neyland D. Catt

*Usually as soon as the page loads and they realize they came here by accident!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Karlton The Christmas Kitty - Part One

Season's Greetings pals!  Or is it Seasoning's Greetings?  Which one would I pick?  Salt?  Lemon Pepper? Bah!  Forget it.  Hello.  Neyland D. Catt here, once again spreading joy and all that other holiday crap.  Today's post is the first part of a special holiday story.  It is sure to become an annual tradition and will probably force Frosty and Rudolph into the unemployment line.*  So open up that tin of stale Christmas popcorn and relax.  Here comes....

Karlton the Christms Kitty (Part One)


Neyland D. Catt

     Winter had the city in its firm, icy grip and every soul within felt its sting.  The streets were nearly empty of people.  The bitter bite of the cold was just too harsh.  The resilient (or desperate) few who braved the cold gave no warm season's greetings or bright smiles.  They simply staggered about as quickly as possible in hopes of escaping the cruel wind.  This was the scene as night began to creep in over the city like an overweight relative stalking the last piece of chocolate at the holiday buffet.  However, if one looked closer, there was more to be seen in the city's alleys and shadowed corners.

     It was here, in the layer of the city just beneath the notice of a busy person, that you would find the other residents of the bustling burgh.  Residents like Karlton.  Karlton was a typical street cat.  That meant that he had been born indoors to a family that hadn't necessarily been thrilled with his arrival.  The humans quickly separated him from his siblings and sent him packing.  He was given over to a young businessman who thought his daughter would just love a cat.  Two years later, Karlton was surreptitiously dumped on the corner of 39th and Delaware, proving that young girls are even more fickle than cats.  They could have at least asked if there was somewhere in particular that they could drop him off.

     Karlton was depressed for a few days, but soon found that there was a vibrant river of life threading its way through the city, a life that was unmatched by the stale, sedentary routine of a house-hostage.  There was plenty of food, if you knew where to look for it.  The well-to-do humans, for example, were known for throwing away enough food after a single dinner party to feed a small nation.  Or several cats.  There was always plenty of excitement.  Nothing got the old blood pumping like a midnight run through the litter-filled streets, a bloodthirsty dog hot on your heels.  Finding a place to get warm in the winter was one of the only tricky parts of street life.  However, Karlton had that one covered thanks to a fortuitous meeting.

     Karlton had fallen on pretty rough times early in his life on the street.  There were times that it looked grim.  There was no food and no shelter.  More importantly, there was no knowledge of how it all worked.  That all changed when Karlton met Vince.  Vince was a grizzled old veteran of street life.  Rumor had it that he had traveled nearly every inch of the east coast of the country and had developed a system that went well past surviving, forced making ends meet right off the road, gave living comfortably the finger as it passed, and stopped only at thriving.  He had shown Karlton all of his best moves.  He seemed to view the youngster as a protege of sorts.  Karlton had soaked it all up like a sponge.  A hairy, devious, and nimble little sponge.

     Karlton had become a well-known cat about the town.  So well known, in fact, that the local pet association had dubbed him "A Highly Suspicious Animal".  They had a photo up and everything.  Karlton took a fair bit of pride in this.  The local pet association was hardly something he cared to join anyway.  This was because Karlton was, to put it bluntly, a con artist.  Lots of folks have had that sort of title over the years, but Karlton was one of those who put the emphasis on the artist part.  He could pull a scam that would make not only the victim weep in sympathy, but also anyone who happened into a twenty yard radius.  It was truly art.  Mind you, it was art that left the artist richer and the audience wondering what happened to all the tuna that used to be in the cupboard.

     The highly suspicious Karlton was at work on his latest masterpiece on the night when our story began.  (You do remember the extremely cold winter night that started this whole tawdry tale, right?)  The door to a posh apartment in the high end of town opened to find a rain-soaked cat with huge, pleading eyes and a slight tremble, staring up hopefully.  This was slightly odd, as there hadn't been any rain in weeks.  The middle-aged housewife at the door, however, failed to notice this detail.  She was instantly sympathetic to the plight of this poor bedraggled creature who had been left at the mercy of a cruel, cruel world.  Karlton gave a tiny, pitiful meow just to seal the deal.

     The hopelessly enthralled woman scooped him up and closed the door behind her.  Karlton was delighted to see a very well decorated apartment with lots of over-stuffed furniture.  It was perfectly toasty inside.  He nearly swooned himself when he noticed the painting of two kittens in a basket on the wall.  This was going to be almost too easy.  He caught a scent in the air that brought an even bigger smile to his face.  His suspicions were confirmed as the lady of the house put him down in the posh living room.  There, on a rug in the corner, squatted a fat cat with luxurious long hair and a ribbon around its neck.

     "Look, Mr Piggles!  We have a new kitty for you to be friends with!  Why, he's our little Christmas Kitty!  You say hello to your new friend while I go and get the girls," the woman squealed, leaving Karlton alone with the breathing ball of fluff.

     "Hello.  Welcome to our humble abode.  My name is Mr. Williford T. Piggles.  Most everyone just calls me-" the house cat started, before being cut off by a flash of claws from Karlton's right paw.

     "Stuff it fatty.  Now, where do you keep the tuna around here?"

                                                           TO BE CONTINUED...

Tomorrow: Part Two!  Karlton gets a big surprise from an unexpected guest.

See ya then!

Neyland D. Catt

*I'm not sure there's really any more room in the unemployment line.  I'm afraid we might see Rudolph turn back to heavy drinking and Frosty selling drugs on the corner.  Well, during the winter.  Somewhere cold.

Monday, December 20, 2010

The Frosty Interview

Welcome back to the holly jollyiest blog by a cat named Neyland on the internet today!  (As far as we know...)  Today is a landmark post.  Today I am interviewing the legendary holiday icon known as Frosty the Snowman!  You heard me right!  THAT Frosty the Snowman.  Oh yeah.  We scooped Oprah and the chicks from The View on this one!  Burn!  So settle back and prepare to be entertained.  Maybe click on one of our advertisers' links just to show how much you really like us.  Then, prepare to have your mind blown!

Neyland -  Hello my friends.  Today I am joined by someone who is literally a legend on the winter holiday scene.  This icon has not granted an interview since the infamous Playboy interview way back in 1972.  Today, he is going to speak to us.  Please welcome... Frosty the Snowman!

Frosty - Happy Birthday!

Neyland - What?

Frosty - Oh.  Sorry.  It's one of my catch phrases.  The marketing guys say it helps to promote my brand recognition.

Neyland - Right.  Don't do that.  Anyway, welcome to the show Frosty.

Frosty - Thanks so much for having me.

Neyland - It's my pleasure.  Alright.  Straight to business.  Do you feel like you are in the shadows of the more well-known winter icons like Santa Claus and Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer?

Frosty - A bit, but I really feel like I am making progress in the 18-35 demographic.  2011 is gonna be a big year for me.  I have some auditions for feature films and several new product lines coming out.

Neyland - That's good, but kids really seem to recognize those guys as THE big names for Christmas time.  Does that bother you?

Frosty - Not really.  I mean, if everybody wants to get all wrapped up in Mr. Big Shot Santa's same old tired routine then that's their business I guess.  The Rudolph thing does kind of burn me up though.  Because he's basically just interested in partying with the Hollywood crowd.  I mean, he's a drunk!  Why do you think his nose is so red??

Neyland - I'm sensing a little a bitterness there.  So... what's with the silk hat?

Frosty - It's a magic hat.  It's basically how I stay alive during the winter.

Neyland - Oooohkay.  So, without it, you're just another snowman...

Frosty - Right.

Neyland - As long as you wear that particular hat... and the weather is cold enough... then you are alive.

Frosty - Right.

Neyland - So what happens if someone puts that hat on a big pile of snow shaped like... let's say a walrus?

Frosty - Well, I guess the Snow Walrus would come to life one day.

Neyland - So you're basically just lucky that people keep putting the hat on a snowman built to your specifications every year.

Frosty - Pretty much.

Neyland - I'm starting to see where your marketing problems are coming in.  If that snow walrus thing ever happens, your credibility is shot, pal.  Hell, kids might like the snow walrus better than you.

Frosty - Hey!

Neyland - Is it true that you use that corn cob pipe to smoke crack?

Frosty - No!  I don't do drugs!  Just say no kids!

Neyland - That's not what the word on the street is.  I hear you're a junkie.  What would happen if instead of a big carrot, someone used a big piece of poo for your nose?

Frosty - Well, I guess I would have a poo nose...

Neyland - Wow!  Then you'd smell poo all day every day!

Frosty - Er...

Neyland - I have to say... you've been terribly fortunate that people have built you this way so far.

Frosty - If you say so... is it getting hot in here?  Is it just me?

Neyland - Oh, no.  I've got the heat going full blast.  Is that a problem?

Frosty - Well yeah.  I melt you know.

Neyland - Rudolph doesn't melt.  That's why he's better than you fat boy.

Frosty - Could you please turn the heat down?

Neyland - I don't think so.  Santa doesn't need it to be below freezing.

Frosty - *gurgle*

Neyland - How's that magic hat working for you now?

Frosty - *gasp*

Neyland - Happy Birthday.  Well, looks like our time is up.  I'm going to use what's left of Frosty to make myself a milkshake.  Come back by tomorrow when we will proudly present Part One of "Karlton The Christmas Kitty".  It will be a heartwarming holiday tale that might just replace Frosty in the public consciousness.  We're out of time and I still have to take this magic hat and put it on my snow walrus... with a nose made out of poo.  See ya!