Ramblings and rantings from Kat's mental closet.
New Kat Litter is in progress. Meanwhile, enjoy a nostalgic holiday trip from October 2001:
reposted: October 30, 2007
originally posted: October 25, 2001
It comes by night, and even by day, to fang my socks and my unsuspecting feet.
It is like the legendary bigfoot: everyone who has never seen it claims it does not exist, is a hoax or a figment of my too-active imagination. But those who have been victim to its evil bite, its lightning-fast appearance and swift dissolve into darkness, know the truth.
The Nos-Ferretu is out there. No foot is safe, no untended shoe, no rubber or leather item left a moment unwatched.
I have proof: my rain boots leak from the fangings they have suffered. Alas, I laid them to rest in the dumpster. They adorn the feet of the homeless now, I have no doubt, but they shall suffer. The mark of Nos-Ferretu will never be erased. The holes in the toes will ever leak Seattle rain upon the tootsies of the victim.
The stuffed toys leak fluff from fabric wounds. They know not why they have been attacked. Their glazed plastic eyes speak volumes of the horrors which their thread-stitched mouths cannot scream.
When the scrambling sound of its clawed feet is heard upon the deck above, the cat flattens his scarred ears and hides. He knows the terror of Nos-Ferretu.
Fruit can be found with gouges taken from its sweet flesh. None are safe from the predations of the fiend, not young, smooth skinned grapes, nor old and wrinkled raisins. They bear the mark of the fang.
The bed may hold such horrors that only the bravest dare slip between the chilly sheets without a glance in search of firey eyes which glare their malevolence, glowing with the unhealthy desire for tender tarsals.
They know no fear. Their strike is swift. None but the righteous boot may stand before the fiend. And we know their fate. Pity the boot which gives such stalwart service, then is reduced to rubbish in the battle against Nos-Ferretu.
Vampire Weasel, I hunt thee with nail clipper and toothbrush. Someday, fiend, I shall be victorious. I hear you chuckling, wicked-one. Laugh now, for tomorrow, you may be vaccinated....
Back to top of this page, please.