Fiction (For a cat)

August 24, 2011 — Leave a comment

My stomach hurts, dude. I think it’s the onions. I ate onions today and I almost never eat onions. It’s alright, though. It’s hurt worse.

I invited you here to tell you that I’ve been squirming in my skin lately. Squirming in my skin with no clear direction or explanation or way to escape the fucking creepy feeling. I invited you here to tell you that because you only come around when I invite you. Not that big of a deal, though. Shit gets busy. I work. You hunt and sleep.

I’ve tried increasing the amount of times per day that I vomit. Shit, man. Korbel tastes just as bad…You get the point.

Anyway, I was only vomiting before bed but have upped it to at least 4 times per day thanks to the awful taste and terrible stomach burn of cheap brandy.  I don’t really think that it’s helping. Like I said, I really don’t know how to combat it. So now I squirm in my skin and have a love/hate relationship with shitty booze.

Right. Definitely not an ideal situation. It’s fucking awful. But it’s not as awful as it was.

Go get some food.

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