High above in its mountainous fortress, the Beast watched and plotted. Little did I know it had me it its sights, stalking me, awaiting only the right moment to spring its trap. I had ventured into its domain, a slight the Beast would not abide.
Too late I heard it move; too late did I sense the attack. I raised my hands in defense, but the Beast coiled and struck true, its talons clawing deeply into the exposed flesh of my face.
Then, victorious in its conquest, the Beast slinked away, to wait and plot its next attack.
But my scars remain, and may never heal. Forever they shall attest to the fated night when I became the hunted.
TRANSLATION: I was watching TV on the lower bunk of the bunkbed in the office of our apartment. The cats normally call the top bunk home, and occasionally jump to the lower bunk to get down. K2, aka Maggie, aka Fatpants, decided to jump down. I heard her rustling up above, and shifted slightly in my place. The son-of-a-bitch misjudged her landing and ended up landing claws-first directly on the left side of my face.
So yes, I've got some pretty sweet scars. If anyone asks, I got attacked by a jungle cat.
2 comments:
Another fate one would expect for Mr. Utah. Are Jungle Cats also snobby like Beach Cats?
Yeah, you know, I didn't realize it at the time, but that was a total Utah moment. It would have been vintage Utah if, instead of letting the cat jump on my face, I had roundhouse kicked it out the window.
Jungle cats are not as snobby as Beach cats, but they are often more ferocious due to their feral nature and enhanced predatory abilities. While they spend their days fighting off hyenas, poachers, and jungle bats, Beach cats mostly have to look out for filthy Russians, and the occasional Land Shark.
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