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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1990456-Killing-Kittens-While-Wearing-Mittens
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #1990456
18+ This is a true story about my life and the cats in it. Meant for a good chuckle.

-Killing Kittens While Wearing Mittens-
by Keaton Foster

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Killing kittens while wearing mittens
This is a nonsensical adoration
Towards the elimination
Of a true representation of cuteness
Do they deserve to die
To be lined up and shot
Well of course not
This is just a rant
One from a man
With way too much time
And three too many
Felines on his hands
Cats are all quite cute
They do love to purr
And they live to poop
Over the years
I have had quite a few
First there was Misty
She was killed by Buick
Next there was Tabby
Shot by a random hunter
Left for dead in the woods
With an arrow through her head
Then there was Mister Sam
Ripped to shreds by a neighbor’s dog
And placed on the front porch
There was one named Jessie Jay
He ended up in a gators belly
Dumbass liked to go near water
There was a Princess Pie
Who quite frankly
Was crazy as all bat shit
She went back to the kennel
With a note written in red
That read this cat will eat your kids
Was she adopted or euthanized
I never called back to find out
Over the years
There were quite a few Tigers
All of them wild males
All of them real assholes
I’ll spare you the various
Grotesqueries of their doom
But all of them met an unfortunate
And untimely end
The last was a black cat
Named Mr. Mojo
What a blowhole
He use to shit in my shoes
And meow until way past 3 A.M.
He would caterwaul at random
Which oddly sounded like
He was being screwed in the ass
With a broken baseball bat
He would cough up fur balls
Often just as I sat down to dinner
Easily ruining my appetite
That thickheaded, bull of a cat
Was an impossible dick
He lived for sixteen solid years
Never once facing his end
Never once leaving my home
Then one so so gloomy day
I was watching television
In my spider-man underoos
And eating an order of hot wings
Mr. Mojo walked into the room
He laid down right on my feet
I was sure that he was quick asleep
So I let him lay there in peace
He was always a greater dick
If and when I woke him up
There I sat for three hours
Watching television
Three Matlock reruns to be exact
Only when I could no longer
Hold in my desperate need to pee
Did I attempt to get up
I carefully slid Mr. Mojo off my feet
But unlike so many times before
He did not jump up and hiss as me
Instead he just stayed frozen
In his curled up position
I ran across the house
And peed like a racehorse
Then I laid down in my bed
I was tired from work so I slept
Nine and half hours to be exact
The next morning I woke up
And made my way to the living room
And there, on the floor just as before
Was my at most times asshole cat
I yelled as loud as could
Mr. Mojo get up its time to eat
He of course didn’t move
I said it again and then again
Slowly I went over to him
Sliding my foot under his backside
Prodding him to get him moving
After I removed my foot I noticed
That my toes were covered in cat shit
Cold, runny, smelly, rancid cat shit
It turns out that Mr. Mojo had died
Some thirteen plus hours before
And when he did
He had evacuated his bowls
I probably didn’t smell it because
Of the hot wings I was eating
I screamed as loud as I could
Oh hell, Mr. Mojo you bastard
And just as I did my daughter
Who was only four at the time
Came around the corner
She cried out daddy daddy
What’s wrong with Mr. Mojo
I replied, quite poorly I must add
And definitely because I was mad
Mr. Mojo is fucking dead
Not one of my shining moments
Thus and because of
Since then I have adopted
Three other adorable kittens
One named Mr. Mojo Part Two
One named princess snowballs
And Sir Winston Chuckle Muck
All of them for my daughter
All of them meant
To help her mend her heart
She, my wonderful daughter
Has now gone off to college
And I’m right here,
Alone in an empty house
With three, asshole cats
Who are by now within what I’m certain
Still is a few years of a natural death
She calls me once a week on Friday
And it’s usually not to ask me
How it is that I am doing daddy
Nope she calls and always ask
How are my precious cats
I always reply in the same way
They are living a wonderful life…



Killing Kittens While Wearing Mittens
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.

© Copyright 2014 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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