Napolean on “difficulty”

5 cats surround my house at night, taking shifts around my cul-de-sac, each feline, specifically designed by God to terrorize Napolean, a black and brown wiener dog (human to my parents, more like my miscarried brother) whose “Napolean” complex refuses to throw out any signs of weakness.  To him, this is his destiny.  Stealing a few tear drops from these mammals means the world to him.  And if one cat lets out the slightest scream, he gets off harder than the top two best dry humping sessions he’s had in the past, combined.  His kamikaze acts of selflessness, if recorded at high shutter speeds, would be deemed synonymous to the fortitude of the Japanese during WWII.

I told him the other day that throwing his body against the sliding doors, although courageous and different, was probably not the brightest thing to do.  He turned around and said:

“Sometimes you have to fight for what you believe in.”

and I snapped back:

“That’s fucking cheesy.”

And he went at it again.  Harder, faster, and stronger than Daft Punk. Throwing himself into the grueling surface of the sliding doors in front of him, leaving the cats unmoved, but him one step closer . . .

and then I saw what he was doing.

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