Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, right? I told Heather yesterday that “as a dork with too many synapses looking for trouble, my idle hands must be juggling Satan’s balls.” I’m always up to some new bullshit; thus the late critter posts.
When I’m merrily tossing those swingin’-demon-semen farms, it’s not just the critter posts that get delayed. I routinely also forget to eat lunch until it’s too late to reasonably do so. In this case, I forgot to eat lunch until after 3PM, which meant that poor Oscar didn’t get to whore himself across me like Tarzan’s onesie until after I’d wolfed my power meal of peanut butter cookies and old coffee.
The entire time I was eating, the little nerd was sitting on the couch behind me, tapping me and rubbing his greasy ass on my dome. The moment I put the cup down, this happened:
The furry snake slithered right up under my beard, and then when I tried to move him, he slipped those cute fuzzy-beaned paws down onto my shoulder and touched my still-fresh tattoo with the tips of his claws through my shirt.
His needle-sharp, always-disgusting, fresh-from-the-litterbox, MSRA-infested
Some days, Satan’s balls juggle back, I guess.