Chapter 2: Why you shouldn't put kittens in your lunch pail

A guy ripped passed me on his bike and I yelled "Run!"

Welcome to

Chapter 2: Why you shouldn't put kittens in your lunch pail

 

I'm going to keep this somewhat brief, as I have a feeling this will incriminate me for animal cruelty.

 The year is 1990. Our hearts are being warmed by sweet little McCaulay Culkin (man, that face slap still gets me every time), and we're trying to hold on with Wilson Phillips. Break free, break from the chains, if you will. I'm like any normal 4 year old kid, putting popcorn in my ears or swallowing a jolly rancher whole and thinking I'm going to die for the rest of the afternoon.
Life is good. Got moms to myself while my sisters went to school. This meant I played with every possible thing I could think of that I wasn't supposed to play with. I would switch their cassette tapes and think it was the most fantastic prank I could have ever pulled off. I'd lay on my sister's Madonna bedspread and pat myself on the back for a job well done, while chewing an apple with my mouth open. What? Moms was having a nap, of course I'm going to take advantage of my alone time. I might even say a swear.

 

So one day, mumsy decides she wants to get a cute little kitty from the pet store in town. There are two things horribly horribly wrong with this sentence. See, my mum isn't really the cat type. Or dog type. Or child type. But like hell if that's going to stop her. She likes to live on the edge. Secondly, if you buy a kitten from a pet store, it's going to fucking die. Like they tend to do.

She brought home little baby kitty INSERT NAME HERE (give me a break, I was 4. I can't even remember the last time I had my period. I mean...) and we were all delighted and smitten with little baby kitty. Of course the only thing I'm thinking is "Oh snap, a new thing to frig around with." but mum said I had to leave the cat alone.

One thing about me; tell me I can't do something, chances are, I'm probably going to do it just to spite you. Not only am I not going to leave the cat alone, I'm going to take this shit to the next level and put the cat in my fucking lunch pail and swing it around. Okay, MOM?

So, like I said. I put little baby kitty into my lunch pail.
Sadly, shortly after, poor little baby kitty passed away behind our fridge.

 Moral of the story: don't put a kitten in your lunch pail, because 20 years later, you still won't know if it was the lunch pail that killed it, or the fact that it was from a kitty mill.

 Did you notice how I said I was going to keep this brief? Tomato, tomotoe.

 Honk if you like Chapter 3: Just because tweezers are the same shape as a power outlet, does not mean you should stick them in.

I don't know about you, but I think Mrs Bigglesworth looks stunning as a brunette.

Cute! Just kidding, she's not cute. I hate her.