Sexes. Eh, the sexes.
Cat Calendar
Dear Readers:
We have received an overwhelming number of letters in response to our recent publication of Cat-astrophe: A Calendar for People Who Do Not Love Cats. Many of you have expressed your disapproval, and, in some cases, downright anger about the calendar. We would like to offer here a brief explanation in response, as it seems many of you have grossly misunderstood our calendar and its contents.
To begin, while there are many, many calendars, which feature and celebrate cats, there are very few, if any, that represent the vast, often silent, constituency of people who do not love cats or even like them at all. We know it may be difficult for you to imagine that there are people who do not like cats or enjoy seeing them glorified. But, just as you cannot sense how bad your home smells because of your cat or how much cat hair you have on the back of your sweater, you also cannot comprehend just how much the people who dislike cats often hate them.
We hope that you will find the month-by-month explanations provided below helpful, and that you might replace some of your blind rage and narrow-minded intolerance with compassion and understanding. Please remember that we are merely a publishing company that’s trying to publish quality calendars, and we have no vested interest in either side of the cat issue.
JANUARY
“TETHER CAT”
This photograph featuring a cat tied to a tetherball pole, swinging between two men who appear to have just batted it back and forth, was only staged to look that way. The cat was not “batted” at all. It was carefully swung from one man to the other—eventually with enough force so that it would stop banging into the pole. The cat was not really harmed too much during the photo shoot. In fact, it seemed to sot of enjoy the “ride.”
FEBRUARY
“SNOW CAT”
The cat pictured here was glued onto the snowboard, so there was never any danger that it would fall off as it passed through the moguls and over the jump. As I’m sure you know, cats are very flexible. So the few times that the cat did wipe out or coast into a tree, it regained its composure and consciousness very quickly.
MARCH
“NICE CAT-CH”
The cat head that is mounted on the wall in this photograph was not stuffed or taxidermed in any way. It is the head of a live cat, who was simply placed into a mounting device through a hole in the wall. The cat pictured here was very much alive when the photo was taken (and is still pretty much alive today despite the minor accident we had with its antlers).
APRIL
“KITLER”
First off, the kitten you see here, who is dressed as Adolf Hitler is, in fact, a German cat. Second, aside from the acute allergic reaction it had to the uniform and the difficulties presented by the surprising strength of the glue we used to attach its mustache, the kitten had no problem with its outfit. Also, the “concentration cats” located behind the fence in this photo were not nearly as emaciated as they appear to be. Most of that was done with lighting, makeup, and duct tape.
MAY
“CAT-APULT”
The cat strapped to the catapult in this picture was not harmed during the photo shoot. The cat you see flying in the distance most likely landed safely into a swimming pool or onto some other soft surface in the neighborhood.
JUNE
“CAT WITH MANY LARGE KNIVES”
The knives you see sticking into the wood around the body of the cat, who was tied to the spinning wheel in this photograph, were thrown by a professional knife thrower. At no time during the shoot did the cat suffer any harm. While the cat did pass away shortly after they untied it, a subsequent autopsy revealed that the cat had a preexisting anxiety condition.
JULYont>
“BAR-BE-CAT”
Every one of these cats was removed from the rotisserie at the first sign of catching fire, and most were sprayed with fire retardant before the photo shoot, making them even less flammable.
AUGUST
“CAT-A-MARAN”
While this cat may have been slightly terrified when we stretched it and attached its legs to floating hulls before sending it out into the water and dragging it with a speedboat, it came out of the photo shoot just fine and was back to normal after a few short weeks in traction.
SEPTEMBER
“NINE LIVES?”
All you need to know is that each of the cats pictured here was already dead before we took any of these nine photographs.
OCTOBER
“CAT O’LANTERN”
We are legally prohibited from commenting on the content of this photograph due to pending litigation.
NOVEMBER
“THANKSGIVING TURK-CAT”
The supposedly “roasted” cat featured in this gourmet spread was not actually roasted, nor was it cooked or even killed. Not only was the cat not killed, it was also heavily sedated so that it would sit still for the photo. Not many cats ever get the opportunity to mentally “check out” for a few hours, much less have a mind-expanding trip, but this one was lucky enough to do just that.
DECEMBER
“CAT CHRISTMAS TREE”
Finally, our famous Cat Christmas Tree pictured in this photograph was created using more than 71 cats. The cats were tied together, carefully stacked, and then arranged into the magnificent, heavily ornamented tree featured here in the calendar. The cats that were glued together were glued using the least toxic airplane glue we could find. Also, the cats that were used to make the garland were only the cats we found on the street, who seemed up for it. I think it’s safe to say that if any of these cats could talk they would certainly tell us how proud they were to be part of a world-record-setting cat tree, no matter how hard or deadly it may have been at the time.
We hope this explanation has been helpful in answering your questions and concerns, despite how ridiculous and uninformed those questions and concerns may be. Thank you for your understanding and we look forward to your continued understanding with the upcoming publication of our new book, The More Than One Thousand and One Ways to Skin a Cat.
This page is unnecessary.
Optimist, Pessimist, Contortionist
Take a look at this glass of water.
OPTIMIST: The glass is half full.
PESSIMIST: The glass is half empty.
CONTORTIONIST: I can fit both of my feet in there, no problem.
It just started raining.
OPTIMIST: Good. We could use the rain.
PESSIMIST: Damn. It’s probably going to rain all day.
CONTORTIONIST: When I’m wet, it’s easier for me to get in and out of certain things, like an umbrella holder, for example. Although, antique ceramics can be a real problem. I learned that the hard way at a private party once. They had to break me out of that umbrella holder. And then the hostess got really mad about it. I hate people who are not flexible. No pun intended.
We found a lump on your neck.
OPTIMIST: It’s probably just a cyst.
PESSIMIST: Oh God, I’m going to die.
CONTORTIONIST: That’s my toe.
An unmarked package has just arrived.
OPTIMIST: I bet it’s a gift.
PESSIMIST: It’s probably a bomb.
CONTORTIONIST: Let me see that… It’s Ralph. He’s doing my box bit. Son of a bitch! That’s my bit. All right, let’s send this box back, but first let’s put some tape over those little air holes.
What is your favorite snack?
OPTIMIST: I love pretzels!
PESSIMIST: I don’t eat snacks. They make you fat.
CONTORTIONIST: Did somebody say “pretzel”? Check this out…
That man looks like he’s choking.
OPTIMIST: I can save him.
PESSIMIST: It’s probably too late.
CONTORTIONIST: Been there. I once choked on my elbow.
Your luggage has not yet arrived from Phoenix.
OPTIMIST: I’m sure it’ll be here soon.
PESSIMIST: It’s gone.
CONTORTIONIST: I know. I’m inside it.
It’s the first day of Spring.
OPTIMIST: Great. This is my favorite season.
PESSIMIST: Crap. This is allergy season.
CONTORTIONIST: I’ll never forget the time I sneezed into my ass.
Describe yourself in two words.
OPTIMIST: “Hopeful idealist.”
PESSIMIST: “Cautious cynic.”
CONTORTIONIST: “Fisherman’s knot.”
We’re Pregnant
We’re pregnant!
We’re 12 weeks already.
We’re so excited!
WEEK 13
We’re shopping for baby clothes. Wait, what? We are? Already? Uh, we’re thinking it might be a little early for that, but—nope, we are told we are wrong about this and that we should just let us enjoy this. Got it.
WEEK 14
We’re suddenly getting moody, very moody. We’re blaming this on our hormones. When we gently point out that we might be acting a little bit unreasonable, we fly off the handle at us, as if to say “Unreasonable?! I’ll show you unreasonable!”
WEEK 16
We’re wanting to talk about the pregnancy constantly, as if there is nothing else in the world to talk about. We’re being cool with this, though, because we understand that we’re pregnant here. And in case we forget that, we are sure to frequently remind us about it.
WEEK 18
We’re gaining a lot of weight. We mean a lot. We made a harmless joke about this, something like “Wow, honey, do you have triplets in there?” And in response to this we went and locked ourself in the bathroom, and now we won’t come out. We’re thinking about sneaking off to grab a quick drink with the guys while we’re in the bathroom, but we fear what we might do to us if we come out of the bathroom before we get home.
Who are we kidding? We’re not going anywhere. We’re not going to see the guys tonight… or maybe ever again.
WEEK 20
We’re really mad at us for something we’re not even sure we did. When we ask, “What’s the matter?” we start to cry and then go eat ice cream in the other room.
WEEK 21
We’re starting to think that we somehow read the e-mail we sent to our buddy Mark, in which we jokingly referred to us in our purple pajamas as “Grimace with a ponytail.” Uh oh.
WEEK 23
We’re crying over a car commercial. We’re now getting caught laughing at us crying at the car commercial. We’re explaining that we were actually laughing at something else, but we’re not buying it. And… there we go again, heading into the other room to eat ice cream alone.
WEEK 25
We’re getting huge breasts, but we won’t let us take advantage of them. We’re disappointed.
WEEK 27
We’re craving certain foods, which is fine. But foods that we know one of us is allergic to? And then eating those foods right in front of us? We think this “craving” might complete horseshit. When we mention this to us, we say, “You don’t know what it feels like,” which we find interesting, considering we’re pregnant.
WEEK 29
We’re regretting an honest remark we made about another woman’s body. We will never do that again. We didn’t realize that women in Post-Impressionist paintings counted. But it turns out they certainly do.
WEEK 31
We’re now starting to look really pregnant, both of us actually. This is no surprise when we think of how much we’ve been replacing sex with food. We’re starting to look like my dad, which is not great.
WEEK 33
We’re accusing us of being “too receptive” in our interviews with prospective babysitters. We deny this. (But we’re secretly pulling for the Asian one.)
WEEK 34
We were just trying to point out that we’re not the only one going through physical stuff here, for your information. We had an ingrown hair on our neck that we missed when we were shaving the other day, and now it might be infected. It’s definitely puffy, and it hurts. But we clearly don’t care.
WEEK 36
We’re not sure if the sonogram technician was flirting with us, but we’re definitely going to have a fight about it tonight.
WEEK 37
At this point, we’re contemplating having sex with the couch cushions.
Now we’re very surprised when we suddenly get home early from lunch with Susan, which we were not expecting. We’re trying to explain exactly what we were doing with the couch cushions. We feel embarrassed and sort of chafed.
WEEK 39
When we have a beer, just one beer, by the way, we’re getting yelled at for it, even though we never explicitly said that we both had to stop drinking. We’re explaining to us, in our defense, that we’re not both actually pregnant here.
We just went crazy on us for saying that.
We now understand that we’re “both actually pregnant” here.
WEEK 40
We’re not sure if we’re quite ready to be a father. Yesterday we got into a terrible shouting match with some jackass who cut us off and almost ran over our foot with one of his training wheels.
WEEK 41
W at the hospital. We’re nervous. We’re feeling a little dizzy.
We’re now waiting in the lounge because apparently we fainted when we saw us “dilated.”
We’re talking to the doctor now. He’s bringing us in to see us.
We look more beautiful than ever. We’re both the happiest we’ve ever been in our lives. We did it. We’re also really exhausted.
We’re parents and we’re excited to finally get some sleep…
Protagonists’ Hospital
[Dr. Stone arrives for work in the ER.]
NURSE: Good evening, Dr. Stone.
DR. STONE: Hey, Karen.
[Dr. Stone’s colleague, Dr. Barnes, enters.]
DR. BARNES: There he is!
DR. STONE: Hey, Barnes. You seem chipper.
DR. BARNES: Yeah, well, as much as I’d love to stay, my couch is waiting for me.
DR. STONE: So, what are you leaving me with tonight?
DR. BARNES: Nothing too crazy. Let me bring you up to speed.
[Dr. Barnes hands Dr. Stone some medical charts.]
DR. BARNES: We’ve got a Caucasian male, gunshot wound to the shoulder. Minor injury.
DR. STONE: Okay.
DR. BARNES: We’re treating another Caucasian male who has a gunshot wound in his arm. It’s not serious, though. He is actually in excellent physical condition despite having been in a high-speed car chase for hours after being shot.
DR. STONE: Sounds familiar.
DR. BARNES: Yep. Now, in those beds over there we have three Caucasian males, two of whom were shot in the leg, but only in the fleshy part and not near any joints.
DR. STONE: And the third?
DR. BARNES: Knife wound.
DR. STONE: Let me guess… in his shoulder?
DR. BARNES: Right.
DR. STONE: So, these patients are essentially all fine then?
DR. BARNES: Yep. And every single one of them also has an incredibly high tolerance for pain.
DR. STONE: Uh-huh.
DR. BARNES: And, incidentally, they are all remarkably good with quips, even while receiving medical treatment.
DR. STONE: I’ve seen a lot of that lately.
[A nurse approaches with a muscular man, who is wearing a T-shirt and has a bandage on his shoulder.]
NURSE: Dr. Barnes, I just wanted to get your okay before we discharge this patient.
[Dr. Barnes looks at the patient’s chart and signs it.]
DR. BARNES: Okay. All set.
PROTAGONIST PATIENT: Thanks, doc. I want you to know that after I finish avenging my brother’s murder, I’ll get my insurance information over to you. Until then… [grinning as he delivers his catchphrase] Adios, muchachos.
[The nurse is visibly moved by the handsome protagonist patient’s delivery. Dr. Stone rolls hi
s eyes. Dr. Barnes and Dr. Stone continue walking through the ER.]
DR. BARNES: Where was I? Oh, right… We also had four broken arms today—all Caucasian males. All of the patients are fine and all of them are tan and have a little bit of stubble.
DR. STONE: No surprise there.
DR. BARNES: Oh, I almost forgot—we had one guy this afternoon, who’d been shot in the chest—
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