Monday, January 15, 2007

Clearing the air

It's ten o'clock.

The Apprentice: Tents Edition has just finished. You remark on Donald Trump's ability to cut to the very core of a man and how you wish Ivanka worked in your office so she and you could have a cup of coffee. I chuckle politely and stretch out languidly, listening as only males can: absent-mindedly.

You slide off the bed to walk to the opposite side of the room to turn off the light. The quiet hum of the fan above us creates ambiance as you and I are getting snuggly on the sleigh bed with its crimson and gold, Wal-Mart quality comforter. I curl up ruggedly yet cutely next to you, almost like a furry spoon. You wrap your arm lovingly around me and gently stroke my healthy locks.

I purr steadily, content in the knowledge that you are my pet.

You close your eyes, knowing I will be there in the morning.

And then right as I close my eyes to join your in sleep, it happens.

The covers ripple as a low rumble emanates from within the mattress. The rumbling transforms into shattering vibrations which course across the plane of the fitted sheet, crumpling the comforter and shaking the very mattress I lay upon. My feline eyes become bulbous as I look hurriedly to and fro for any immediate sign of the tremendous and undeniable disaster coming my way. I sink my lithe claws into the fabric of the poor-man's comforter and prepare for the onslaught as my muscles become taunt and ready to spring.

You simply turn over onto your belly and let out a yawn.

Before I am able to discern what has occurred, a strange, venomous cloud slinks along the contours of the covers like an unwelcome guest. Quickly, I glance right and then left, hoping that there is some escape I can manage, yet captivated in horror, I find my legs unable to move. The cloud's sickening warmth surrounds my terrified body, and instinctively, I try to close my nostrils before its putriscence penetrates my senses.

It is too late.

Tears flow as the rotten egg smell burns into the delicate film of my eyes, and I find myself ready to gag as it seeps down into my throat, along the sandpaper edges of my tongue. Every hair bristles along my spine, and my tail stands straight out behind me, trembling at the onslaught. My will to live, though, is strong, and I attempt to use all of my feline prowess to overcome this powerful and vicious enemy.

As sudden as the attack had begun, the horrendous vapor disappears, and fresh air fills my lungs. My heart slows its pace as my fur settles against my soft body once more. I immediately stand to stretch after such an agonizing battle as I will not linger beside you for one second longer.

When will you learn not to fart in bed, my pet?

One more cat life lost.

22 comments:

Anonymous said...

Zeus is going to be grounded for sharing

Anonymous said...

LOL!!! Poor Zeus. Sometimes us human pets forget that your sense of smell is more acute than ours!

Thanks to you and your human pet for the comment on my blog adn i agree - they should move the bull closer to Wall Street. I though there was a great spot right near the Stock exchange and Federal Hall.

Anonymous said...

HAHAHAHAHAHA. 'cept wif us it's MILES.

Cheysuli said...

I feel your pain Zeus. Been there. Alas, I have to contend with TWO humans! UGH!

The Tower Hill Mob said...

Fight back! I do!
Toby

Anonymous said...

I'm a little surprised those claws weren't sunk into something other than comforter fabric. Seems appropriate under the circumstances.

(note to Zeus: thanks for visiting, you're welcome anytime. Plus! farts are few and far between)

George, Tipper, Max & Misty said...

Hmmmm, perhaps you should look into ordering a small gas-mask. But, are you sure it wasn't Isis? Either way, the mask would be beneficial.

George

Anonymous said...

OH! The Human Pet dropped air biscuits? I read the entire thing with the roles reversed.

I thought she was writing about you petting her and ripping a healthy one!

('Cause I think that's how it really happened...)

Anonymous said...

The Lap Lady stinks like that too. I'm glad to hear I'm not alone!
Kaze

Anonymous said...

hahahahahahah! Zeus, you are too funny!

Eric and Flynn said...

Hahaha, your human pet will love you for sharing that with us. Our dad is like that when he's been drinking Guiness, and he roars out of his mouth at the same time.

Anonymous said...

Ugh ... Zeus, you were the victim of a sneak attack. Be thankful that you didn't get the "dutch oven."

For awhile there, you were REALLY turning me on.

DMM

Derby said...

That should not be shared Zeus my furiend. Way too much information.

Anonymous said...

We about all died laughing here. But we also fight back, we let stinkies when they want to pick us up and pet us, and we don't want them too.
Peee Eess: Fanks for bisiting our blog, it is nice to meet you.

Anonymous said...

LOL!!! Zeus, thiat is the funniest blog I think I have every read.

Anonymous said...

Ah, poor Zeus. Pay her back with an air biscuit of your own. Speedy can teach you. He's a master of the poot on demand.

Renee said...

kitty nose plugs?

.... meow >^^ said...

too hilarious z

Anonymous said...

Oh dear!! Poor Zeus! My husband does that to me sometimes, it's NOT GOOD!

Thanks for the sweet comment on my blog :) *hugs*

Karen Jo said...

That was very funny, Zeus. Your human pet is probably not thrilled that you shared it with the world, though.

tiggerprr said...

Oh my goodness, you're a hoot!

Anonymous said...

Way to go, Zeus. Don't let the pet get away with that or there'll be no end of it. Fight fire with fire, or something like that...