Even though we live near Desert Plains, the cool Pacific air blows in our windows every afternoon. While Heather was getting her Metal Gods on, she got chilled and needed her blankie. She’s a Victim of Changes in her hormones, perhaps.
Now, Oscar has thirty-six senses, and thirty-five of them involve blanket detection. He’s always been Hell Bent for Microfiber, almost like he has an Electric Eye watching us when he’s not around. Quick as a Lightning Strike, he took his One Shot at Glory and made himself at home in her lap like a good little Invader. If you think you can enjoy a blanket without a cat in this house.. You Got Another Thing Comin’.
He’s such a little Turbo Lover that he doesn’t even care who knows or sees; even when the Dissident Aggressor Stan comes by and gives him the Touch of Evil, he can’t be deterred. The moment you whip out a camera though? That’s illegal.
So be it, we’re Breaking the Law. After this many terribly badly concocted Priest references, it’s not like I’ll be among the Living After Midnight anyway. Hopefully when the brood decide to off me, I can drop a Painkiller first!
If I’m lucky, I’ll find new wings in the Halls of Valhalla. Brian, The Sentinel of Blood Red Skies has a nice ring to it. It’s far more likely I’ll be the bouncer everyone ignores at JimBob’s Rocka Rolla Bait & Holla shop or some other personal Hell Patrol in an adjacent dung heap of the afterlife.
I think y’all get the point. Oscar loves snugging his mom, and he took full advantage of her watching a Judas Priest concert. I don’t think she’ll let me write any more posts for a while now, though.