A Cat Who Plots
The Overthrow Of Capitalism While I Drink Black
Butte Porter And Eat A Carl’s Famous Star
by Doug Hawley
The title is
half the story. The rest is about my
wonderful Christmas in August. It
began inauspiciously when I saw Sally Rich on
August 2nd. She was the CEO of
Chasebook, the multi-billion dollar website for
stalkers. She had come back to
Burgville for her twentieth high school reunion. She
had dragged her fiancé, Osborne Chatworth the 3rd
with her. Yes, dragged. His
clothes were torn from being pulled on his
stomach across the road. Their
upcoming nuptials were to take place during the
Christmas celebration, which like most towns in
this unnamed state, take place in August.
Despite her time away from Burgville and her
homes in London, San Francisco, Los Angeles and
Cucamonga, she still had warm feelings for the
place where she grew up. We had gone
to Bonnie & Clyde High and dated at the local
soda shop, Stepson’s, and the New Wave
Cinema. At one time I imagined a life
together, me working at the local Fuel Stop and
her at Burgville Library, but she was too
ambitious to stick around.
The location of their upcoming nuptials did not
sit well with Mr. Chatworth. As he put
it “I wouldn’t wipe my $1500 shoes on
the backsides of these insufferable rubes in this
no Starbucks town”. As previously
mentioned, he was dragged here. Sally
told me that despite some minor misgivings and
his lack of any male parts, she still wanted to
marry her Chasebook and his also multi-billion
dollar Sniff It, the pet matching site.
My good fortune was that Sally and I got to spend
a lot of time together before the wedding. Osborne
spent a lot of time getting his ears flossed;
flag acrylic nails, and blond highlight hair
extensions. We mooned over the teenage
fun that we had and the perversions that we
practiced. I can’t say any more
because this is PG. If you want the
good stuff, watch the Pornstop version.
Sally was still determined to marry him, until we
went bowling as we did during high school. She
broke down and told me “I don’t want
chauffeurs, fifty million dollar estates with hot
and cold running staff. Nor do I want
to be Empress Of The World. I want
stinky babies, a one bath crap shack, and you, my
beloved runt.”
It came to pass that we had a modest wedding here
in Burgville on the 25th of August, our
Christmas. My cat Marx-Hegel, dressed
as Santa, was best animal for the wedding and we
served Carl’s Western Bacon Cheeseburgers
and bottled McMenamins Terminator Stout at the
reception. The entertainment was
Brenda Lee’s “Rocking Around The
Christmas Tree” played on repeat for five
hours.
Presents were exchanged and we toasted each other
with pork nog.
Nothing beats being a Hallmark movie home town
boy.
Appears
in The Daily Drunk
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