Thursday, April 30, 2009

There are no cats in America


This is a lie.
My family came to this country to make shoes and eat cheese. We were promised a better life.

We were betrayed.

My family was in the middle of a jaunty ballad about the importance of flossing when the death squads descended upon us.

Wave after wave of cats dressed up like classy rats began evicserating the general populace.

My best friend Tiger was there.

He was violently raped to death. Violently.

I'm the last mouse alive. I plan to move west and see if I can find inner peace.

I know that in the end we're all going to die, but so help me God, the cats will go first.

My name is Fievel. Join my resistance. And if you see those cats, tell them I'm coming and hell's coming with me.

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