I thought cats were supposed to be elusive and good at hiding…
Grumpy Cat wishes you the worst Christmas ever.
O holy night
Sometimes at night I walk around my neighborhood while drinking beer. Walking on its own is kind of boring, and alcohol enhances everything….so, ya know. So anyway, these nightly walks have been really nice lately since everyone has been decorating their lawns for Christmas. Holiday decorations are just about the only thing I like about living in the suburbs, and my neighbors like to do it up big so I’ve been walking (drinking) more frequently and really enjoying myself.
I typically meet a few neighborhood cats on these walks…just out and about, murdering small rodents and terrorizing frogs, fighting with their neighbor cats, business as usual. On one particular night, I spotted this:
I know that picture doesn’t look like anything to you, so allow me to point out a few things:
There’s a black cat in that manger. THERE’S. A. BLACK. CAT. IN. THAT. MANGER. Now, it’s common knowledge that cats like to do three things:
- Annoy their owners.
- Ruin Christmas.
- Murder things.
This cat is just hitting all three in one fell swoop.
- Owner will be annoyed that the cat is fucking up the Christmas display.
- The cat is fucking up the Christmas display.
- THE CAT IS TRYING TO SMOTHER BABY JESUS.
Of course, the greatest thing about this photo is this idiot chilling in the bushes:
WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING BACK THERE?
What do you mean I’m on the naughty list?
If cats believed in Christmas, all cats would get coal because they’re evil fur covered assholes that unnecessarily complicate their owner’s lives on a daily basis. And they wouldn’t even feel remorseful about it. But they don’t believe in Christmas because they’re dicks and would never, ever, like, ever believe in something so magical simply because it makes the entire planet happy and love each other for a night.
It seems this asshole didn’t get the memo because he’s still checking Santa’s nice list for his name.
I’ll save you the time so you can quickly return to not doing a damn thing…It’s not there because you’ve spent the last year puking on the carpet, eating my fresh flowers, dumping my glasses of water, and sprinting laps on the bed every morning.