Frightened and confused, I pondered what to do. I jumped at the sound of my cell phone, which was ringing. It was my neighbor, Augustus, who had been searching for his pet cat for two nights.
It was my job to be courteous enough to tell him the whereabouts of his cat.
"Oh, yeah, I've seen your cat. But I can't quite explain to you what happened to your cat in words. Come on over. If you have a intercourse ing gas mask, I recommend bringing it. Don't ask questions."
Thirty minutes later, my neighbor arrived, confused and worried. He didn't know what to think when he saw his beloved cat stuffed between a toilet paper thing, covered in the smelliest poop known to mankind. He was outraged.
"What did you intercourse ing do to my cat??! I know he got out sometimes and takes a poop on your porch, but you didn't have to intercourse ing kill him! You intercourse ing killed the only thing that was good in my life! Floofers was all I had..."
I was a bit surprised by his reaction. He was actually accusing me of breaking my plumbing just to take revenge on his cat. Unfortunately for me, he called the police.
Ouch. How very tragic.
My name's not Augustus you poop hole.
This story needs more Kyle MacKinnon.
I don't think I spelled that right.