Discussion Forum

I ran over a cat.
Its dead.
I killed a cat.
Dead.
In the car.
....that fucking death-trap of a car of mine.

The thing is, the cat belongs to a woman I lust after in a depraved Jesus Budda-type way.

I haven't told her yet becasue I am afraid it will ruin my slim chances of romance with the lovely lady.

I am in a quandary.
I am an animal lover - in a being-kind-to-animals way, not that I make sweet love to them or anything.
I am very sad about this. As I said, I am in a quandary.
Sould I tell her and risk losing her forever?

Or should I blame it on my next door neighbour?

I am afraid that next time I may run over something bigger, like a large baby. Or a badger.

Spill your not inconsiderable guts.

The truth is always the best policy.

Er... except perhaps on 'here'.

Hope that helps you out of your quarry.


PS Have you seen Lynton by any chance?

Sod the cat.

Who cares?

Cats are free

But they can't talk..

I can't just simply go up to her and say "I ran over your beloved cat and now he's dead".

I need to think this through carefully.

Should I pretend to be crying?
Or do myslef an injury so that she will have some sort of pity for me?

I could pretend to hang myslef.
Let her find me dangling from that shed out back.
And then when she cuts me down I'll splutter out that I accidentally ran over her cat and was so troubled by it that I felt doing myslef in was the only way out.

I've got a washing line that could do that job just fine. And I have an old wooden stool to stand on.


Or I could buy her forgiveness somehow.

I really don't want to ruin a love that hasn't blossomed yet. It's barely even sprouted roots to be honest.

At the moment, fake suicide seems the best idea to go with.



PS: Lynton's whereabouts have nothing to do with me.
Unless he was dressed as a cat earlier today.
In that case its bad news I'm afraid.

Yes JB. A 'fake' suicide could do the job.

Why not make it a very romantic one.

Y'know, a bit like Michael Hutchence.

But without the orange.

Or the suspenders.

PS I really don't think Lynton is a pussy.
If he was, he wouldn't have been put in the cooler.
Unlike your lady friend's cat - or have you shoved it in the garage freezer?

I'm fed up with this cat..

It's dead..

Let's all move on..


Off to take pills..

Pills!! Now there's an alternative, JB.

A lot less messy.

Thank you, Pinxit.
You are a kind and considerate soul.
The children in your area must be very lucky to have someone like you to watch them. Day after day. Night after night.

A fake suicide it is. Unless a better suggestion crops this evening.


Col Juan, you are a an inconsiderate bastard. Heartless and depraved.
You have no love in your body, sir.
No love at all.
Cock cheese, that's what you are. A big steaming lump of cock cheese.



I'm off to write a note. Or is that too melodramatic?

Viagra's wasted on rabbits.

I know...

I know all about rabbits.

All I have is Dispirin.


If only I had a gun.
A shotgun.

I could stage then whole thing and have her walk in just as I am about to pull the trigger.


Fuck the note.
I'm off to practice crying and looking dishevelled.

JB, you're welcome. Yes, I DO care. Take care of your lady's rotting pussy.

CJ, I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a pre-frontal lobotomy.



Right! Off for a lovely cheesey supper.

Give it up. The idea itself is monstrous; a moment's clear reflection must show that the practicality must represent a grievous injury to reality's delicate fabric.

Look at it from her perspective.

A fictional lunatic destroys her cat, then pretends to kill himself.

"Wow", she says, panting with very fire of lust. "That is the very fictional lunatic to fulfil my womanly needs. I only wish that I had more cats for him to run over, and that he had as many lives as cats are falsely supposed to possess, that he might kill himself 9 times over. Phwoar!"

Erskin

Brilliant thinking, one can only conclude that the cat was fictional as well.

---

Quote: Erskin Quint

Give it up. The idea itself is monstrous; a moment's clear reflection must show that the practicality must represent a grievous injury to reality's delicate fabric.

Look at it from her perspective.

A fictional lunatic destroys her cat, then pretends to kill himself.

"Wow", she says, panting with very fire of lust. "That is the very fictional lunatic to fulfil my womanly needs. I only wish that I had more cats for him to run over, and that he had as many lives as cats are falsely supposed to possess, that he might kill himself 9 times over. Phwoar!"

---

He's right, ya know.

But if this was a film it would all work out perfectly and the end credits would roll and all would be lovely.

Hope you are feeling better about your situation....or are you dead?

If you are still alive, don't bother with the note unless you change your writing style. The woman will likely send for the loony catchers.

Good luck. Hey...just go and get another cat that looks the same and shove it in her back door (I mean 'the back door of her house').

Gonna watch Chelsea play in an hour or so....on the telly of course.

LG

It turned out that it was Schroedinger's Cat I ran over.
No need to fake a suicide.
No need to pester a pretend 'woman'.


Good for you, Lady G.
You go watch your telly and shout at it.

Chelsea.
Arsenal.
Anyone but United to win the league.
Any team with a Nani and an Anderson in it deserves no Jesus Budda love.

...blame it on the new mirror..."things are a tad closer than they appear"

M