Hey, I just finished the new Something Here Is Terribly Wrong strip so it should be up soon. Actually for everyone that didn't get to see last week's strip in the 8 hours or so that the server was actually online last week it'll be like you're getting two strips. Because, you will be actually.

Anyways.

I'm getting ready to head up to Columbus tonight or tomorrow to go looking for apartments. I still haven't found exactly what I want, but it's kinda hard to do that from down here. Anyways, we'll see what fresh hell today offers and then I'll make up my mind.

Speaking of Columbus, Mistress Victoria will be hosting the upcoming Gothcoming at the Bar of Modern Art on October 3rd. From what I understand it's getting bigger every year and it kicks much ass.

This year it will kick all kinds of extra-strength ass as I will be in attendance as a personal guest of the Mistress herself, so turn out and buy me drinks you freaks!

Now I'm gonna go get some sleep, get up, pay some bills, dispose of whatever new mouse corpses have accumulated overnight (Cat: 4 Mice:-4) swing by the mall to get a car charger for my new cellphone and then probably head up to Columbus.

Wish me luck.

So it's been a strange day.

Damn. I say that a lot, don't I?

I woke up this afternoon and washed the mixture of blood and Crazy Glue from the night before off my fingers. I got it on my fingers when gluing shut a relatively minor little flesh wound. I tried to stitch it, but that just made it worse, so I used the glue in what I like to refer to as the 'Rich-Fucking-Sanders Maneuver'.

So I come downstairs, go into the kitchen, get some underwear from the dryer, put it on and head for the living room. Then I hear this rustling noise. I look around, well, listen around and I notice it's coming from the large stock pot I use when I make popcorn, which I'd left on the couch the night before. I look in it and discover this:





You might not be able to tell from the pictures, but he's definitely not fully mature. He's a little one, which is probably why he couldn't get back out of the pot. God knows how many mice I have in this house that could and probably did get in and out of what is one of my most used pieces of kitchenware. This is but one of the many reasons I'm working on getting the hell out of here.


Anyhow, I got the little fucker by the tail and put him in an empty, one gallon, octagonal fish tank I had sitting around and pondered what to do with his tiny ass. Then I remembered I needed to go to my brother's place for dinner. So I just put the tank on the back porch rail (where the neighborhood cats like to hang out) with the lid off and left it for Darwin to sort out.

Darwin and the cats.

Actually that sounds like a cool band name...

Or an Elton John song.






Where was I? Oh yeah, I went to my brother's (put pants on first), had a good time, noticed he still had one of his cats left. They had three, I've mentioned them before, Sugar (Shugie), Spice (Spicy) and Evey (for 'every' one presumes). It seems to suggest they were planning on getting at least one more, but they became a pain in the ass, so Shugie went out to Mom's, Evey ran away, leaving only Spicy whom they also wanted rid of. So I 'borrowed' the cat to try to handle the mouse problem.








I say 'borrowed' because I'm about to move, so I can't take her with me, but I need her for the time being because I have vermin fucking with my popcorn and I can't tolerate that. My brother and sister-in-law however insist that they're not taking her back, so it should make for something of an interesting post when a week from now I leave the cat and all her stuff on their doorstep in the dead of night..

Besides, even if I did find an apartment that would allow a cat (and wouldn't charge me an extra $20 a week for the privilege of owning said beast) I'm a fat guy with a tendency to order a lot of Chinese food with a cat named Spicy. If that's not an open invitation for an investigation by the ASPCA I don't know what fucking is.

Personally I always wondered at the wisdom of naming cats anyway. I never thought it necessary for the same reason I never thought it was necessary to name any of my fish, that being any animal that won't come when you call them by name doesn't need a goddamn name.

The cat does have a name though and now, thanks to Zombie, so does the mouse. I totally forget what is was though. Mortimer or somesuch. Doesn't really matter since, as mentioned previously, calling his name will do a grand total of diddly-fucking-squat.

Plus, I still haven't completely ruled out murdering him and if he has a name that makes it personal.

On a side note, another reason for not naming fish is they tend to die a lot. I've had somewhat better luck with cats. In fact, cats have been responsible for the deaths of some of the fish and let me tell you, when you catch them at it yelling “Get outta there you furry bastard!” works better than calling them by name.

Anyhow, I get back home with the cat in the pet taxi with the food and the big, encased, littler-box dealie and the fucking little bastard mouse is still in the fish tank.

Dammit.

By the way, if you think leaving him on the porch was cruel I had briefly considered tying a string around it's tail and tying the other end to the back porch, but that seemed a tad sick and unusual. You know, as opposed to leaving him for dead in a fish tank.

Plus I was out of string.

So I take the cat AND the mouse back in the house along with all the extras that my brother was only too happy to give me so long as I was taking the cat with me. I set up all the cat's stuff, put the lidless fish/mouse tank on the floor, turn the cat loose and go into the living room.

I can't bring myself to just outright kill the little bastard, but I can use my powers of obliviousness to set up the cat to murder my nemesis for me...

I hear the sound of the tank falling over, quickly move to the kitchen to see the tank on it's side with the mouse still in it and he's staring right into the eyes of the cat. Their noses are practically touching. And they just sit there. It's like neither of them knows what to do next.

Thoroughly disgusted after about ten minutes I flip the tank upright with the mouse still in it, pick him up by the tail and dangle him in front of the cat like a catnip toy.

The cat just stares at him.

I actually drape the mouse over the face of the cat like a Bangkok tea-bag video.

The cat doesn't do anything.

And by the way, yes, I do see the incongruity in not wanting to kill the mouse myself, but doing everything short of putting the mouse in the cat's mouth and working her jaw up and down for her so as to blame it on the bloody cat. I see that incongruity and I choose to ignore it, thank you.

But yeah, despite my best neglect and direct help the damn mouse is still alive. In fact, I even fed him.

On an ironic note, I fed the mouse cat food, The very same cat food that I didn't feed to the cat so she'd be hungry and therefore more likely to kill mice.

The ultimate logic here is that if the cat won't kill it when I want it killed then the only sure way to get the mouse killed is to make it a pet and protect it

There's really something wrong with me isn't there?


PS: Anyone reading this that isn't a fan of horrific cartoon-animal on cartoon-animal violence won't want to click on this video.

The rest of you will laugh your asses off.



UPDATE: Apparently the cat knocked over the tank in the dark and failed to kill the mouse. So he's returned to wherever he's been hiding after having eaten his fill of cat food.

The score is now officially Mouse: 1 Cat: -1

UPDATE: 6:10 PM Mice: -3 Cat:3

Seems she didn't want the easy kill as the second dead mouse I found today appears to be the one that escaped last night. For that reason I've deducted the point awarded the mouse team for the escape and added it to the cat kill count.