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

by

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.

THE END!

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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.

Karlton The Christmas Kitty - Part Three

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Karlton The Christmas Kitty

by

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?"

TO BE CONCLUDED...

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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

by

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!

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Part Three is coming right up!

--Neyland D. Catt


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

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)

by

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...

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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.

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!

Neyland's Holiday Gift Guide!

Welcome back my festive friends!  Neyland D. Catt back up in your holiday grills!  I know that everyone is preparing for the jolly fat man (no, not John Goodman) so I decided I would give everyone a hand in the final stretch run.  I have compiled a compelling list of holiday gifts that you should purchase for your loved ones immediately.  Sadly, the Neyland D. Catt cologne gift set was not ready in time for the holidays.  Without further ado, because I'm sick of ado, here it is...



1. Wintersmith - by Terry Pratchett

This is nothing short of a classic.  Terry Pratchett is a master of combining
sharp witted humor with compelling characters and an engrossing plot.
There is simply no other author that I would whole-heartedly recommend
to any reader.  The man is funny.  I mean devastatingly funny.  But, he also
makes you think a little bit and care about the characters.  He achieves all
of this without being a cat.  Go figure.  He does, however, have a cat in this
story.  Not prominently, but still, it makes a great tale even better!

2.  A Christmas Monkey

That's right.  A Christmas Monkey.  Most people
aren't aware that this product is available.  What
child wouldn't want to unwrap their very own
screeching, carousing, poop-flinging Christmas
Monkey?  Just be sure to leave air-holes in the box
when you wrap it.  And keep a baseball bat handy
in case he gets a little crazy.

3. Ultimate Werewolf: Ultimate Edition

This is a fantastic party game that tests your ability to bluff
your friends and family.  A good poker face is invaluable.
It's not Christmassy, but it IS loads of fun...
The concept is simple: You are a group of villagers who are
plagued by werewolves.  The problem: some of you are the
werewolves.  The villagers must deduce who they are before it's too late!  Pick this up for anyone who likes games from
Diceheadgames.com.  I promise you will love it.  And I'm not the werewolf.

4. Your very own Mountain Dew and Beer Christmas Tree

Don't act like you don't want one.  I know you ARE that tacky. I wanted to order one last week, but Big Pinkie vetoed it.  He claimed that just being near that much Mountain Dew would give him more kidney stones.  Two drawbacks to this truly great work of art:  It's hard to get lights on it and people might drink your tree.











5. A cat elf costume.

Ha.  Please don't actually buy this one.  Trust me.  It's never as cute as you think it's going to be.  You will regret it as your cat shows it's displeasure in a variety of horrifying ways.


Okay.  That's enough product placement for one post.  Come back tomorrow for my interview with Frosty the Snowman.  You won't want to miss it!  I will NOT be wearing a cute cat elf costume.  But I might be joined by my very own Christmas Monkey.

Wintry Wondrous Land - Another Holiday Poem by Neyland D. Catt

A festive Saturday to you all!  Neyland D. Catt here to hand you all a piping hot cup of cheer.  I wouldn't drive or operate any heavy machinery after having that cup.*  Just a helpful hint.  Anyhoo... we're all in a rather chipper and christmassy kind of mood here.  I've had the opportunity to keep posting for a bit now and Big Pinkie is gleefully counting down the days.  Oh no.  Not for Christmas.  For Monday.  He will probably be getting his stint out and he's worse than a kid on Christmas Eve.**  So, that brings us to this post.  It's another holiday poem by yours truly!  Sit back have a candy cane on me...



              Wintry Wondrous Land
                               by
                    Neyland D. Catt

Twas a bright and chill December day
and all the cats were hard at their play.
Fat Tiger bounding through the snow
quite fast at first, then quite slow.
Anime laughs and shouts with glee
for snow is blanketing all we can see.
Gracie is snuggled down warm in her bed
a bright Santa Hat perched on her head.
Shifty Luna is watching from the window on high
I keep a close watch from the corner of my eye.
I grin a grin most cats wouldn't understand
this is most truly a Wintry Wondrous Land.

Big Pinkie is tangled in Christmassy wrapping
he tries, he fails, to wrap before scrapping.
At last he cries out, a joyous victory
as he lifts up his gift, wrapped shoddily.
The Lady just smiles a soft smile, unbidden
for only she knows where her gifts have been hidden.
Outside tiny field mice flee, full of fear
as Anime chases, Tiger brings up the rear.
They chase over hills covered over with snow
and there in the drifts, the mice have nowhere to go.
I smile to myself as the mice make their last stand
this is most truly a Wintry Wondrous Land.

Now night time is drifting to cover our house
fat Tiger is napping, tummy full of field mouse.
Gracie awakes, she's missed all the fun
Only in her dreams did she chase and run.
Luna curls up high atop the dinner table
She'd have chased mice if she had been able.
Pinkie and The Lady drink warm cups of cheer
Fondly enjoying this rare time of year.
I settle in to write on my blog
Occasionally distracted by the burning yule log.
This chill, snowy day has gone exactly as planned
this is most truly a Wintry Wondrous Land.

**********************

Thanks for reading!  Come back tomorrow for Neyland D. Catt's Holiday Gift Guide!

---Neylo


*Well, really.  What did you think was in a cup of cheer, after all?  Cocoa?

**It's true.  If Santa delivered stint removals, I'd be gazing hopefully at the night sky - hoping to see his eight tiny reindeer and the fat jolly old elf in scrubs!

Urban Legends - The Holiday Edition

Greetings and salutations my friends!  Well, maybe I should say greetings OR salutations.  You can't have both.  Pick one.  Ok.  Greetings it is.  Today we bring you the return of our Urban Legends series.  This one is all chocked full of truths and myths about the holidays, which may or may not be brought to you by Wikileaks.  Here goes...


Fruit Cake is a tasty holiday treat!


No it isn't.  Fruit cake is actually a mysterious substance that continues to baffle leading scientists even today.  No one knows what this stuff is really made of.  It's not even certain if new fruit cakes are still being produced.  Its entirely possible that all of the fruit cakes on earth today are in fact from the very first batch of fruit cakes ever made centuries ago.  This is possible because no one actually eats fruit cake.  They simply give them away.  So the same ancient fruit cakes, which were probably intended to be bricks by early man, are still making the rounds.  By the way, fruit cakes got their names because anyone who would actually eat one was considered to be a fruitcake.




Live Christmas Trees are better!


Poppycock!  Trust me, fake trees are MUCH easier to deal with.  They push over just as easy as a real one and their synthetic composition seems to propel the ornaments off in all directions.  Plus, if you leave your scent on a fake tree, it's still there the next year!  The real bonus, though, is that there is a huge box involved with the fake tree.  That provides many hours of enjoyment, as you can hide in it and even use it to sharpen your claws.

I just realized that some of you may not have been expecting a cat's-eye view of the Christmas Tree issue.  Really, what were you thinking?  Maybe you should go check out Martha Stewart's blog and see what she has to say!

The Holidays bring out the best in people!


Humbug!  That's just nonsense!  From what I can tell, the holidays don't bring out the spirit of giving.  They bring out the spirit of competition.  Also there's a heaping helping of guilt.  You try to make up for being such a crappy friend/spouse/parent through the rest of the year by giving some expensive gift that will end up being returned after New Years.  OR you get suckered into the "giving the perfect gift" trap. You end up spending countless hours desperately searching for that unique item, a process that often involves physical violence against other shoppers, only to have your gift returned after New Years.  Congratulations.  Now you have to spend some time with family members that you've carefully avoided throughout the rest of the year.

Cute Little Elves make toys for Santa to deliver!


Wrong.  Actually, cute little Korean kids make toys for Santa to deliver.

***********************************************************


That's all for today!  Come back tomorrow!  I've got another NEW Holiday poem for ya!

--Neyland D. Catt

Re-Post: A Christmas Poem by Neyland D. Catt

This is a re-post of one of my very first blog posts in honor of the holiday season and as a trip down memory lane in honor of The Fictitious Cat's One Year Anniversary.  Some of you may have already read this one.  If you have, pretend that you haven't and act surprised!*

Gather round my little friends, whether you be furry or furless, and attend with eager ears as I lift your holiday spirits with a poetic verse.

That Night Afore Christmas

'Twas the night afore Christmas and all through my house,

I was stealthily stalking a succulent mouse.

Big Pinkie and the Lady were all tucked in their bed,

fat Tiger the cat draped o'er Big Pinkie's head.

Gracie and Anime watched me with glee,

as I cornered yon mouse 'neath the bright Christmas Tree.

The mouse gave a cry to alight upon a limb,

I grinned and sure-footedly climbed up after him.

Gracie exclaimed "Neyland look out!"

After seeing my skills, how could she doubt?

The mouse lit upon on a shiny red ball,

I stared in horror as I watched it's slow fall.

The mouse ran away as the ball started to shatter,

then the rest of the tree fell with a thunderous clatter.

I turned to find Anime and Gracie had fled,

Big Pinkie from the hall staring, his face was quite red.

I ran through the house pursued by the angry human male,

I fled away fleetly, tinsel waving from my tail.

I tried to explain that I was after a rat,

but try as I may he wouldn't buy that.

He said "You tore down the tree and thought it was fun!"

"That's not true!" I exclaimed, "The rat had a gun!"

And so here we are, my tale now is told,

I spent the remainder of Christmas... outside in the cold.

Merry Christmas to all,

and to all a good nap!

Neyland D. Cat

* I re-read this one and didn't have to act... I really was surprised.  This was actually an entertaining little poem.  Neylo didn't take long to find his style.

                                                                           ---Big Pinkie

Anniversary and New Friends!

Howdy.  It's your old pal Neyland again.  That's right.  You can't escape me.  Not even on the internet.
So, Big Pinkie is STILL dealing with the aftermath of Stonezilla.  He has to keep the stint in for another week.  My maniacal laughter doesn't seem to make him feel any better.  Go figure.

I had a sudden epiphany yesterday.  Boy did it hurt.  Seriously though, I came to a sudden realization that due to Pinkie's medical issues, we had completely missed our one year blog anniversary!  I know!  It's a tragedy!  So, we will try our best to make the rest of this month special in honor of the occasion.  It was roughly one year ago that I slinked my way into your lives for better or worse.  We will be re-posting some of our favorites as well as bringing some amusing new material your way.  We will try our best to make it worth your while to come back and visit.


In other news, we have a blog that we would like to spotlight this week.  On The Go Dinners is a new blog started by our friend Mel.  She is new to the blogosphere and needs a few new followers.  You guys are the best out there, so I'd consider it a personal favor* if you would stop by her blog.  She is currently starting a food delivery business and is posting her menus there, but will also be sharing her kitchen adventures as well!


That's all for today kids.  A bit brief, I know, but Big Pinkie is whining again and Tiger is eating all of my food.  Back tomorrow to spread some holiday cheer!

--Neyland D. Catt


*Neyland fancies himself some sort of Mafia Don at the moment.  He's taking favors and grudges seriously.  Please do what he says.  Mafioso cats are not to be trifled with.

Neyland's Hollywood Round Up

Howdy kids.  Neyland D. Catt back for a second post in two days.  That's practically a record!  I haven't bashed on all the Hollywood types in a while, so today is my day to get my fix!  Prepare yourselves for a round of informative mockery of the latest happenings in Entertainment Town...

First up: Miley Cyrus smokes a bong in a video!

Gasp!  Say it ain't so!  Let's face it, Miley is not a little kid anymore.  She is a young adult now.  Young adults, especially those with lots of money and fame, see their IQ's drop by at least half for a period of around 8 to 10 years.  They will do extraordinarily stupid things just because they have the option to.  This is the period of time that nature uses to try and kill off the truly, terminally stupid.  I won't even get into the debate of whether she was smoking salvia or marijuana.  Really doesn't matter much.  My gut tells me that Miley will survive her wild-child years with at least some of her dignity intact.  However, she will probably end up on Dancing With The Stars at some point.  Not sure what will remain of her dignity after that.

"The Hasselhoffs" Cancelled after 2 episodes!


Wow.  Didn't even make it long enough to get re-runs to air forever in Germany.  This is good news folks.  This struck a blow for good taste across the world.  Combine this with his hasty exit from Dancing With The Stars and you have a clear message:  America is sick of David Hasselhoff!  Seriously, dude, if you were a cat, you'd have used up all 9 lives 15 years ago.  Give it up.  The whole Zombie craze is starting to fade anyway.*

Racy Pics of Christina Aguilera leaked!


Not really sure this news.  Christina has been "racy" for as long as I can remember.  Maybe they were pictures of her fully clothed and being demure?  It amazes me that stars are shocked when stuff like this comes out.  Really?!  You were surprised that pictures of you in some bondage outfit made it to the internet?  There was someone standing right in front of you with a camera!  Taking pictures!  In this day and age, everyone and I do mean EVERYONE, has a digital gizmo on them at all times.  Chances are it can take pictures.  Or video.  Or 3D.  Or 4D with smell-o-vision.  The point is, if you don't want the video of you making out with an armadillo showing up on the internet, then don't make out with the armadillo.  Or at least check him for cameras first.

SpaceX launches Dragon capsule into orbit!


What does this have to do with Hollywood you might ask?  Nothing.  Except that once again, we sent a spaceship off the planet and missed the opportunity to send Lady GaGa with it!


See you kids later!  I'd write more, but I have to go take a wiki-leak.**

Neyland D. Catt



*Neyland actually believes that David Hasselhoff is a zombie.  I've tried correcting him, but he does offer up some compelling evidence.

**He has no idea what the whole Wikileaks thing is all about.  He has simply borrowed the term to describe going to the bathroom.  That's my boy.

An Open Letter To Bill Gates

Buenos Dias!  Neyland D. Catt finally back with you all.  I'm sure you all missed me as much as I missed you.  Big Pinkie continues to battle his kidney stones (by peeing rocks!) and I am back to posting.  Today I bring you all an important post.  Possibly historical.  Or hysterical.  Whichever works.  I give you....

An Open Letter To Bill Gates


Dear Mr. Moneybags,

     My name is Neyland D. Catt.  I'm sure you've heard of me.  I am writing to you about an issue that I feel is of monumental importance for this country and indeed for your own legacy.  I am talking of course about the lack of actual superheroes.  I think you'll agree that is well past time that we had some.  After all, the modern world has so far failed to deliver the flying cars, moon bases, and weather control that we were promised decades ago.  Let's not compound this failure further by not getting some colorful do-gooders in tights out there.

     Why am I writing to YOU about this issue, you might ask?  Because you are a filthy rich dude who owns his own corporation and has a lot of spare time on his hands.  See where I'm going with this one?  Let's see now.... do we know any other notable rich dudes with spare time?  How about BRUCE WAYNE?  Huh?  He's freakin' Batman.  You donate money to worthy causes, you say?  So does he, but he also protects Gotham City by night!  You're not athletic and a world class detective, you say?  Get off your duff and finance somebody who is!

     Still not convinced?  Fine.  Then let's look at another example.  How about TONY STARK??  He's a  bazillionare like you, but he doesn't have to be all buff.  He made a freakin' suit of armor that turns him into Iron Man!!  Really?!  You can't do that??  What the crap is a bazillion dollars good for these days?  Is it because it would have to run on the Windows operating system?  Maybe you are afraid that the suit would crash midway through a flight over the Atlantic Ocean.  Maybe you would get tired of constantly installing updates.  Whatever the reason, it's not enough.

     I've been hearing a lot about what a great philanthropist you are lately.  I'll grant that you give a lot of money to charities and you have formed some organizations that try to make the world a better place, but when your accomplishments are compared side by side with Mr. Wayne's and Mr. Stark's, it looks like you are just plain laying down on the job.  So... I expect to see you flying around in a rocket suit, shooting laser beams from your fingers at Al Quaeda real soon.

     Mr. Gates, if this letter has had no impact on you.... maybe I should be talking to Steve Jobs.


Neyland D. Catt

A brief message from Big Pinkie

Hello all.  Big Pinkie here.  I am very sorry for the lack of posts of late.  As most of you know by now, I have been dealing with kidney stones.  I would like to thank all of you for the kind words of support and sympathy.  Also, I would like to thank Neylo for giving me this post to express my thanks and update everyone.  He is very anxious to return to normal posting.*

These were very large kidney stones.  The one in my left kidney was 18 millimeters.  If you have never experienced the joy of giving birth to a rock before, this number may not mean much to you.  So, I have included a photo to give you some idea of the size I have been dealing with...

This is pretty much what the stones look and feel like.  Seriously.

I had successful lithotripsy on the one in the left kidney.  That means they have busted it into little pieces about the size of salt grains.  Unfortunately, there are LOTS of little pieces.  I have a stint running from the kidney to the bladder.  Don't like the stint.  But it helps to pass the bits.  I may be back to normal next week if I flush enough of them out.  Then we can see about doing something for the other kidney.

So, once again, thank you all for your words and thoughts of support.  Thanks to Neyland for letting me have a little time in his space.  And thanks to the doctor for busting up the rock in one go!  Neyland will be back tomorrow with more of what you folks like.

Big Pinkie
(aka Bryan)

* Some might say he is more militant than anxious.  He threatens physical violence of biblical proportions if he isn't back on the internet soon.