A game of cat burning, ruined by a pussy & his wife.

It was a bright Wednesday morning, so warm outside that we felt we just couldn’t justify sitting indoors playing video games all day (which is unusual for us, because usually we make excuses to why we should be playing video games all day).  We decided that weather like this called for a session of one of our favorite games in the whole world; cat burning!  That’s where we go down to the pound, adopt five or six cats (“Oh sure ma’am, we’ll give these cats a great home,” snicker snicker snicker), then light them on fire in our backyard for kicks.  Hold your judgments, prudes, because our game is all in fun, and no one really gets hurt . . . ‘Septs the cats.

We were half way through our greatest session of cat burning ever; the backyard smelt of burnt fur, little cats were desperately attempting a primitive version of “Stop, Drop, & Roll” (and failing quit miserably), and we were laughing our heads off, when all of a sudden our neighbor popped his head over the fence, saw what was going on (we always knew he was a pussy), and started yelling something that sounded like “what are you doing?  You can’t do that,” although it was hard to understand with all the saliva and BS he was spewing.  We told him to calm down before he had a seizure, which was a valid concern because he had been diagnosed with a mild case of epilepsy, but for some reason, he didn’t calm down.  He just kinda got angrier.  He started walking over to us, assumedly to save the few cats who weren’t yet on fire, or maybe to yell at us some more, but we remembered what Bill told us about solicitors, and how should one come into our yard, we should politely ask them to leave.  We decided to try that technique on our neighbor who could be considered a solicitor by definition (although our words weren’t exactly “polite”), but he didn’t stop.  So one of us, Dubba Tubba, walked up to him, pretending like all he was gonna do was “talk” to him . . . little did he know he was about to get his crap ruined.  As soon Dubba Tubba got into range,  BOOM!  Dubba Tubba kicked him in the balls!  Unfortunately for the neighbor, Dubba Tubba had been wearing cleats that day.  POP-POP!  Now the neighbor, kneeling helpless on the ground, was at Dubba Tubba’s mercy.  Dubba Tubba knew this, so he gave him a sharp uppercut to the chin, then elbowed him in that little place in your stomach that really hurts to be elbowed whose name we can’t remember.  Our nieghbor lay on our lawn, dead, and we were about to go back to our game of cat burning (maybe we could burn the corpse too, just so there wasn’t any evidence) but the neighbor’s wife, who was a total hag, saw the whole thing and started sobbing “what have you done to my husband?” although it was hard to tell words from sobs and complaints.  Already we knew where this was going, so we decided to end it before it began.  We both picked up one of the freshly lit cats and chucked them at our neighbor’s wife, who promptly started burning, quite harshly, because ugly always conducts fire.

Now we had a man with a receding hairline groaning and clutching his groin in our yard, and an ugly lady screeching at the top of her lungs on fire next door.  We obviously couldn’t finish our game of cat burning now, and thinking about that made us even madder, so went over to the neighbor’s lawn, because it was time for revenge.  We were planning to go inside their house to break some of their expensive china, but the neighbor’s little boy, who had been watching the whole thing from his little sandbox in back, came up and kicked us in the shin.  We looked down at him and saw little tears in his eyes, maybe from witnessing his parents deaths, but we aren’t sure.  So we picked him up, and punted him like a little football into China.  The neighbor’s wife, still on fire, saw this, started choking from shock and anger, and died.  We started walking back to our house, feeling our work was done (we also made sure to walk on our neighbor’s face on our way back).  We’re still angry, though.  We never got to finish our game of cat burning.  Oh well, there’s always next Wednesday.

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