Pretty Kitty
Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them!
I met a pretty kitty
With a spicy little hiss
Her pretty ear shred, shedding blood
She clawed away my kiss
I shrugged my shoulders; licked my balls
And watched her tease the toms
Those runts who’d knock me off my perch…
(I’m fat, but fucked their moms)
It isn’t long before she’s bored
Canny eye drifting back to O’Malley
For all her hearing might be fucked
The pussycat sees plain who runs this Alley
So I smirk and swagger over to her
And I ask what happened to her ear
Her tail stands stiff; her emeralds bulge
With... rage? Pride? Lust? Thought? Fear?
I raise my brow and clear my throat
“I’m guessing it was some retarded dog?”
She rolls her eyes; then scoffs, licks lips
“Try a narcissistic solipsist old frog.”
Again I raise an eyebrow. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Noth—it’s just, do frogs even have teeth?”
She stares; blinks twice. Then cuts a grin.
“Like… not for chewing, dude; to grip what’s pulled beneath.”
I nod. “So how exactly, then, did ear find way in mouth?”
She blinks. “I don’t get asked that much...”
“Oh. Sor—”
“I’d just left kittenhood due south.”
I nod again. “So, Mr. Frog...”
“I didn’t know then—thought he had this way with words.”
I sigh. “Queens say the same of me. Is that a sin now ‘gainst the kitties it’s made purr?”
She cocks her head with narrowed eyes. “Are you a narcissist?”
“I mean, a couple chicks might—”
“Nah. You care too much—to bring that up?
Real narcs would just dismiss it out of paw.”
She cocks her head the other way. “You’re not the cat they think...”
“The queens?”
“The toms! I’ve seen the way you act round them—all big and claws-out.
But with me you’re nice; chill; calm.”
I sigh and grin. “Well, I don’t really have a choice, babe.
When you show weakness every manger tries your alley.”
“Oh, is that right?” She bats her eyes.
“Cause now’s the first time you’ve seemed strong to me, O’Malley.”
The next day we go strolling paw by paw around the lake
She turns to me and frowns: “You know, you’ve made a big mistake.”
“That runt you drove off…”
“Fleabag?!”
“He insisted you’re… ”
“No doubt. Hence why I drove that shit away—
a tom who slanders me endangers the redoubt.”
“Yet now he howls.” She rolls her eyes.
“Because a world out there exists past your demesne?
He’ll be a headache.”
“I feel fine.”
“I can’t believe you’d want that hanging on your name!”
My nostrils fill with air. “Do you believe him?”
“Does it matter?”
“…I don’t know.”
“If I did I wouldn’t be here, right?”
She shakes her head. “You really need to calm down, bro...”
I snarl at a falling leaf. “Calm down? Are you retarded, or insane?
You just said Fleabag is a threat—that I should fear his whispers poisoning my name!”
Her emeralds roll back languid as she smugly stretches out.
“You’re such a big fat drama queen... come chill with me! There isn’t need to shout.”
I strut towards her imperious. “Did Swampass suck your senses out as well?!
I’m not your bitch to boss around—no pussy’s puppet like that stunted runt incel!”
She blinks—then cocks her head and sighs, her smile enigmatic and opaque.
“Well, you’re not wrong—unlike with Fleabag, your bravado’s not *100%* fake…
Just, why not act more regal? Like… magnanimous and merciful and clement?” “Because we’re ambush predators—not pack hounds, bitch!
And magnanimity gets a mob boss drowned in cement.”
“That was kind of a shitty rhyme…”
“Will you only ruin this life, or all damn nine?”
“And would you look at that?! The Alley King already takes to slant!”
“Brand good-to-crooked cat, O’Malley thinks unsteady makes you pant.”
…
“Fuck, dude...”
I pull out my fat barbed cock.
She bites her lip.
Then giggles at me, kicking it away. “You need to treat me like a LADY—
not some alleythot in heat. You know, I ackshully was born in a cafe…”
“Do ladies go tease rando toms—with assholes full of ticks and shit?”
“That’s all in fun! Don’t be a chode. The world’s a stage; stop hamming it!”
“How old are you?”
“I’m three—you?”
“Four.”
“That’s daddy.”
“Why not hubby?”
“God, you’re gay…”
…
I suck in air. “You—”
“Calm down, Garf! It really sucks to flirt with incel types. Oy vey…”
I smile then, despite myself. “It sounds like you’re the incel Anne Boleyn.”
“…the girl who got her head chopped off?”
“You’re like a shadow of the sphinx who broke me in…”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ve said that shit to fifty other girls.”
“Well, yeah—but this time’s GOT to be in the top five.”
“That’s really hot. I bet your mom…”
“Ew! Gross! Why bring her up? You damn Kanaani cats can sure act strange at times... But anyway, why’s hubby gay? Down here three’s late to take a mate.”
“And where I’m from, I’m wild; hot; young. But that’s not me—I had a mate,
until God or fate or quantum mechanics decided that it wasn’t meant to be.”
“You mean like Schrödinger’s Cat?”
“Exactly that.”
“…a universe exists out there where things played out a little differently; where mates who slipped us by in this realm after fortune dealt us both a bad hand fit like a glove.”
“Thanks for explaining! But that didn’t rhyme at all.”
“Given the profundity I chose… to just this one time speak in prose?”
“Leaves me hanging, stays internal—Fleabag right that you’re a narc?”
“I mean, subclinically, I guess, by dint of market adaptation.
Same as him. Except less anglerfish, more shark.”
“Ugh—why do boys only try when they’re fighting? It’s really annoying as shit...”
“It’s more the nine in ten who AREN’T like that don’t register as options—
and just as fish know not they’re wet, there’s not a bridge ‘tween mind and clit.”
“There’s kind of something wrong with you…”
“…said the bitch with the bleeding ear.”
“That’s really nice! I guess I’m sorry someone hurt me…”
“…and keep clawing at it! Seriously—like, how can you still hear?!”
She smirks. “Well, I’ve still got the other one… plus a lot better eyesight than most.”
“Which likely skews your judgment, babe; you overindex on shit cut in post.”
“Oh, and isn’t that fuckin’ convenient?! Should I let you croak my feelings into ash?”
My fur stands up. “And there’s my sphinx! Your pain’s a panegyric for your gash!”
She swallows. “Fleabag said that you would hurt me—
And that I’d end up just the same as Mariposa?”
“The same as—Mariposa just screwed ME over, babe!”
“But you’ve the cock, which makes her victim; all sub rosa.”
“That solipsistic social-climbing two-faced foreign whore...”
“Oh, CALM DOWN, unc! That’s just the game; they know you’re higher score.”
“Which I guess is why you’re here, then?”
“Duh…”
“To be my consort?”
“Slow down, daddy! Start with ally?
Why even jump to all that sentimental pack hound shit?
It’s not the kind of thing a huntress longs to live by.”
I suck my teeth. “A huntress? Please. Go back to your cafe.”
“I probably will—cause rats and bugs aren’t my idea of prey.”
“Your idea’s ME.”
“Just like I’m yours.”
“As BITCH—not poopbutt fling.”
She rolls her eyes. “You want a bitch? Start acting like a king!”
I cock my head “And what’s that mean? Let Fleabag track his shit around my alley?”
“For a start? Stop wasting time on toms beneath you—
just leave their jagged tongues to Seraphim, O’Malley.”