An ever-growing horror...

I share the events of today in the hope that someone will read back over some of the aspects of my life and tell me it's all totally normal.  I might then feel better and the suspicions that there is a cosmic conspiracy against me might start to fade.  In short, The Fates have again yanked my chain and y'know, I just wish I could have seen my face throughout that half hour.  

...for that's all it took.  HALF A FUCKING HOUR to make me question my purpose on this planet again.  Let me start - oh, and for the non-believers please let me reiterate that everything I write is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth (with my jaded comedian's view of the matter).

Let me set the scene.  As regular readers know I share a house with my best friend 'The Tidiness Nazi'.  I am in fact the 'anti-tidiness Nazi' so I guess that would make me her nemesis in some way. Not only this, I am frequently a monumental fuck up to the point I'm not allowed to use the kitchen if she's not around.  There have only been a couple of fires and scaldings.....and an electrocution but I still maintain I'm an adult and should be treated so.  I also share the house with an elderly cat who has mental health issues and will not go out during daylight hours, a hairy dog with a form of extreme medical stupidity and a mostly bald dog who not only eats all of the cat's food but also loves me to the point of ridiculousness.  Today, the Tidiness Nazi went out for the day and left me in charge of the critters.  

Things HAD been going well; I'd cleared the junk off the window sill of my bedroom and had started to put the cat food up there which the cat was enjoying.  She now sits in the partly open window enjoying the stuff other cats do when they are outside.  The hairy dog was downstairs occasionally woofing at passers by and running in and out of the back yard.  The bald dog?  Why, he was curled up with me having a lie in.  

The time came to get up, do my laundry and consider getting ready to take the dogs for a lovely walk at the creek.  I started to bimble about and worked my way downstairs.  Hey, the sun's shining and it's a beautiful day.  I'd love to eat something but I'm not allowed in the kitchen.  Sigh........

I went upstairs and, through the open door of the Tidiness Nazi's bedroom, I spied a line of drips of rather wet dog shit.  Turning to my faithful hound I yelled the usual "What have you done!" He, realising he was in for a right Royal bollocking, headed off down the stairs and out into the garden.  Tutting, I wearily got the cleaning gear out and made good before the Nazi returned home and we were all collectively in trouble.

I then went into MY room to find.............the most enormous wet dog skid mark I have ever seen.  ON MY FUCKING BED!  "OH JESUS CHRIST" I yelled out loud this time as I wearily started to strip the bed.  As I got to the side nearest to the window I actually stopped with horror.

Yup, the next horror stopped time momentarily.  There was partially digested CAT FOOD VOMIT all down the wall, on the floor and all over my stuff which included shoes, a soft turtle toy I use as a pillow sometimes and paperwork.  Eyes wide I tried to take in the scene.  There was FAR too much vomit for one cat, I've seen cat vomit in my time but I'm sure her stomach couldn't have held THIS much food!  Couldn't the little bastard have done  it out of the window?  Did she invite other cats in THROUGH the open window for a feline bulimia party?  I think "FOR FUCKSAKE!" my expletive of choice on this occasion.

...you think this is all?  

You'd be wrong.

I stripped the bed and threw everything down stairs ready for the laundry.  I was wondering where I would find the mental strength to deal with the wall of vomit but deal with it I must.  Even more wearily I went back into the Tidiness Nazi's room to fetch the cleaning stuff......

...It was only NOW that I spotted the enormous turd and a diarrhea IN HER BED - NEXT TO THE PILLOW!  The shitty drips had been just a warning of the true horror within that room.  I think that one of my eyes started to twitch at that point, my hand became a claw and the words got stuck in my throat.  I think I tried to yell "HOLY MOTHER FUCKING FAAACK JESUS ON A FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUUUUUCKING FUCK!" ...or words to that effect, but they just came out as "Jejeje ffffffffffff".  Starting to seriously die inside I cleared up the turds and stripped off her bed.  By this time the little dog had come to the bottom of the stairs to see what was going on.  In an act of wasted breath I yelled at  him a bit more until he ran back outside to play happily in the sun.  

By this time, my mental capacity was becoming diminished and I stomped around upstairs muttering to myself and thanking the deities for taking the piss out of me again.  Heading back into her room I noticed something which made my blood run cold

A shitty partial shoe print on the Nazi's mattress.

Had I not had enough? The more I looked around me the more I noticed there were shitty footprints all over the fucking house.

With dawning horror I looked at the bottom of my shoes.  Yes.  You are there already aren't you?  There was undiscovered shit and I'd trod in it and walked it ALL OVER THE HOUSE.  

Fearful of an embolism I said  nothing.  I tried to clean the bottom of the shoes in the sink but hell, they had knobbly bottoms.  OF COURSE THEY HAD KNOBBLY BOTTOMS which meant that the shit was nice and embedded in.  I might even have started to laugh manically to myself at this point.  I know I uttered no other word as I went around the upstairs of the house on my hands and knees cleaning up my own shitty footprints.  I found the other shit site.  Foolish of me to have not started at the beginning and worked out that that the sequence was BED - RUG NEXT TO THE BED - DRIP ACROSS THE FLOOR - ONTO SKET'S BED FOR AN ARSE WIPE (horrified cat vomits?).

That's the problem with being a detective - if your first clue isn't the start of the mystery you end up with shit everywhere.  Ask Sherlock Holmes. 

The Turd Mystery

So, I get home this afternoon and the Tidiness Nazi informed me that there has been an issue.

Oh God.

It would seem that she smelled a horrible smell and followed the trail to MY room where she discovered a HUMAN SIZED TURD.  Not only that but there was a river of piss too!

I'm sure that things like this don't happen to other people as often as they do me.  Well, if they do, everyone else is keeping quiet about it.

Bastards.

So, who committed the shit crime, eh?  Let's examine the evidence

Was it my small freak of a dog Derek Ghengis Rasputin Trotsky?

Well, his house-training has been hit and miss and it HAS been raining today.  The bald, freak HATES the rain but no, it couldn't be him.  He is tiny and yes, as the picture suggests, he was mugged for cheese by a girl.  I am lead to believe that the aforementioned turd was so big it would have ripped this suspect's anus apart.

So, could it be the hairy idiot dog Lottie (The Kraken) Hairy McFairy?

Yeah sure she's big enough to produce a giant turd but I have knowledge I wish I didn't of the turdly dimensions  produced by this creature.  I would stand up in a Court of Law and state, hand on heart, that she doesn't shit human sized shits.  She is also fully house-trained and has been for a couple of years.  

Hmmmmm.....then maybe it was Twigletti-Spaghetti Victor-Spinetti Serengeti (Dr X) 

Well, for a start she's definitely a cat so would a cat's arse be able to evacuate something so big?  She's getting on a bit, has mental health  issues (day time agoraphobia - don't ask) and therefore a tendency to crap in the house.  As I refuse to pander to her craziness she is not allowed a litter tray and is therefore encouraged to go out and shit.  This usually results in a crap found in the shower.  She has left shower gifts on and off for years now so why would she switch locations to my bedroom? Perhaps she hates me.  Then again, cats have tiny arses don't they?

Perhaps it was Julie Gerbie?

...are you MAD?  It's a fucking gerbil!

.....could it then have been....

That'd be ridiculous.  ALIENS traveled thousands of light years to take a crap on my bedroom floor?  Perhaps it's a message for humanity.  

Perhaps it was just the Universe sending messengers to tell me I'm an arse hole and the turd was what the Universe as a collective thinks of me. 

That leaves ONE person.  ONE prime suspect.  I'm typing this and can hardly believe it myself!

Of COURSE I didn't crap on my own bedroom floor!

BUT my unhelpful/destructive inner voice, our old friend 'MY INNER ARSE-HOLE' has found an opportunity to tell me I have early on-set dementia and that I have no memory of squatting down in my room and  crapping because I've lost my mind.  My Inner Arse-hole is loving it and loving placing that small seed of doubt in my mind.  I mean I know I didn't do it.  Of course I didn't do it but what if?  What if there really IS something wrong with me and I'm losing my grip on reality?  What's the alternative?  The Tidiness Nazi found it so it wasn't her and it wasn't any of the pets nor passing aliens.  Ghosts don't shit.  I bloody HOPE they don't shit,  that'd be rubbish in Heaven wouldn't it?  Queuing up on a cloud in a line with Cliff Richard banging on about God and fucking tennis.  I'd rather be dead....oh wait.

...so that's it.  A total mystery.  Either a pet has a tardis like bowel, Aliens disrespected me or I've gone mental.  Sherlock Holmes once said something profound that I can't remember but it basically confirmed my Inner Arse-hole's assertion that it was I who committed the shit crime.  Clearly.  Oh God - I've gone mental, I'm incontinent and am experiencing blackouts.  

In Samuel Pepys proper diary type news, Margaret Thatcher, Thatcher Milk Snatcher is dead.  The toffs are pissed off so many people are happy and celebrating and all the other politicians are pissed off they have to pretend to be nice.  What do I think?  Clearly she was a remarkable woman with focus and drive.  Shame she destroyed entire communities and spread so much misery really.  It'll be interesting to see whether anything bad happens when they parade her through the streets.  

DIE CAT DIE (The Tale of the Zombie Cat)!!!!

Dramatic title, eh?  Thought you'd like it.

Gonna share a couple of stories related to cats today.  The first is a cautionary tale and the other is bloody BRILLIANT in a horrible way but it happened to one of my colleagues and therefore it would be wrong of me not to share whilst laughing horribly behind her back.

 

Ok, first the cautionary tale:  My advice to everyone is, even if you think it's dead, NEVER poke a cat with a stick near a main road and some potentially cat loving children.  That's good advice - possibly the best advice you'll be given all day.

What happened?  Well, a colleague and I had to attend a community event with representatives from the local authority and police.  We were all sitting in a specially adapted vehicle with seats and a table awaiting the arrival of 'The Community'.  

No bugger showed .  

After a bit we were all a bit bored, bloated on tea and sick on biscuits.  Oh yeah, how's THIS for hurtful - I ruefully told the gathered agencies that the last time I'd been to this area my beautiful 1971 VW Beetle had tried to kill me by randomly bursting into flames as I drove it.  The police all laughed and advised that they'd 'just' been talking about it!  I'd never met any of them before so they'd just been laughing about it in general without knowing that me,  the poor driver, was about to show up.  They bizarrely stopped laughing when I told them I'd had an anatomically correct skeleton dressed as Santa Claus in the vehicle at the time which I'd had to pull out.  Laughing, I told them I'd been upsetting children by telling them Father Christmas was dead.  

[SILENCE]

I'm sure that's not a crime. I thought it was hysterical - how can you NOT laugh at that; miserable bunch of bleeders.

Anyhoo, one of the guys told us that there was a cat in a blanket around the corner and it had been there for hours.  My colleague and I went to have a look expecting to find a dead cat.  I did sort of look for a stick - if there's the chance of finding anything dead you HAVE to poke it with a stick just so you can scream and run away (no, I don't know why that's important either).  As we slowly approached the tatty looking thing  it did stir and look up but it certainly did not appear healthy.  I inched closer trying to display a  facial expression which would reassure a potentially sick/dying cat.  Clearly, my features didn't quite do it; the cat suddenly leapt into the air, across the car park and into the path of a speeding car. All I remember is the screaming of the child....

So, all we actually did for that community on this day was to force a child to watch it's beloved pet get killed horribly!

...Ah, I'm kidding - that was the FASTEST dying cat on 4 legs.  He made it to the other side of the road by the skin of it's teeth. 

Ok, here's the Zombie Cat story.  It's both horrifying and brilliant at the same time.

A work colleague (and former gym buddy) shared this with me and it's sad so we must read and digest this next bit with dignified expressions on our faces, ok?

It starts off with 'Gym Buddy' (GB) and her daughter discovering that their beloved cat had been run down in the street. They went to collect him in a blanket and, crying, bought him home in readiness to bury in their garden.  GB decided to dig the hole in the lawn so that the cat would be under the grass and in an area which would never be disturbed/dug up accidentally.  They buried him deep.

Next morning, to their horror the cat was lying on the lawn covered in shit, with it's guts liberally scattered around and it's head totally missing! 

[gag]

He was duly re-buried, deeper and with a large slab over the top.

...next day he was again on the lawn now both headless and with a leg missing.

GB put the cat back in his grave, poured bleach all over him (to mask any smell) and put THREE large concrete slabs over him.

It took a couple of days but the decomposing headless, three legged, bleach covered cat again reappeared on the lawn.  This time my gym buddy had enough and decided that they would bag up this beloved former pet and put him in the incinerator.

When her son came home he prepared said incinerator and lit it.  The flame shot up quicker than he expected which made him leap backwards

.....onto the dead cat.

Running around in horror, screaming like a shitty baby, the lad realised he'd never forget that squelching sensation for the rest of his life.  They said a little prayer and stuck the cat in the incinerator hoping that this would finally be the end of the tale and that they would never again be faced with the zombie cat who would not stay buried!

After a few hours GB asked her son whether the deed was done.

.....turns out the incinerator wasn't hot enough.  The family now have a headless three legged cat skeleton to dispose of.