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A Series Of Unfortunate Events

If Sysiphus lived in the 20th Century, his name might have been Z and he might have been ordering and trying to build a computer. His computer parts might have arrived on days during which both him and his long-suffering-and-yet-luminous-and-unwrinkled wife were both working, thereby forcing him to force his LSAYLAU wife to accompany him to godforsaken depots on THREE SEPARATE OCCASIONS, and thanks to a typo some of his computer bits might have been delivered to the wrong address fostering a closer relationship with the neighbours and the dropping-off of the monitor at 2am.

It may have involved the discovery that the computer parts did not come equipped with the right cables, and the discovery that no one had the right cables, and the discovery that the best way to remedy this was to drag LSAYLAU wife on another tour of the Godforsaken Places with Electronics Shops.

He might have then spent four hours of his life bent uncomfortably over various Computer Parts scattered all over the floor, handling them with the utmost care and latex gloves, cradling each one carefully as an infant and protecting it from the deadly static electricity of the cats (the very same cats whose curiosity made them circle him like sharks for hours and hours and hours). He might have then lifted out his motherboard and realised that a teeny tiny teeny mini bit of it had come loose in transport and snapped off and that in fact it was ALL FOR NOTHING and that once a new motherboard arrived he’d have to do all of it again. He might have (with a wild gleam in his eyes) hit upon the idea of welding the teeny tiny teeny mini emancipated component back onto the motherboard before realising that his idea was useless and undoable. He might have manfully resisted the temptation to cry, although not so much the temptation to relate his troubles to LSAYLAU spouse several times.

He might have then realised that on account of Easter his motherboard replacement would not arrive until well into the next working week, tainting all his endavours with a terrible yearning and frustration and sadness, the sadness that shouts at him whenever he passes the sad, non-working carcass of his almost-built computer on the living room floor, or indeed one of the mountain of boxes that housed computer parts, currently piled next to the sofa and incrementally increasing the various sadnesses of everyone except the Cats.

Speaking of Cats, here’s the latest instalment of the pet related soap operas in which Max (a fat, imperialistic neighbourhood tomcat more akin to a furry turkey than a graceful feline) attempts to corner the Professional Kitten and sexually abuse her. Professional Kitten manages to slip in between his paws and runs to the door of her house where she stands squeaking to be let in while Max corners her again. On the other side of the sadly-shut front door First Cat is yowling and growling and scratching in his eagerness to get out and protect her virtue and let loose some pheromones. The scene is saved by Z – the kitten flees through the open window and Max slinks off in a state of unrequited love but with a backwards glance as if to say ‘One day I’ll get you, Professional Kitten! You’ll be mine!’

Leading us all to wonder Whatever Will Happen Next? Will Max ever get his way with Professional Kitten or will a well aimed projectile find him first? Will First Cat ever succeed in defending his territory against insurgents? Stay tuned!


Apr. 4th, 2007 10:56 pm (UTC)
I used to want a cat before reading this journal :D
Apr. 13th, 2007 01:55 pm (UTC)
but...but... just think of the fluffyness you are missing out on!
oh cats are bringers of much more joy than features on these cyber-pages. You know you want someone in your life to tread on you while you sleep. Plus, they look really funny when you give them a bath.


deep sky, firefly

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