In an underhanded attempt to shut us down, the National Security Agency (I suspect Department H) has flooded the Steeltown area with hyper-aggressive airborne allergens. The strain is particularly virulent, and seems immune to all known varieties of anti-allergy medicine. I have had to take cover in climate controlled environments, such as libraries and donut stores, but am almost finished the construction of an inflatable bubble chamber in which to take refuge until the attacks subside. If they subside. Fear not Fakiegrinders! The truth shall not be silenced. We will continue to keep the paths of communication open, and to broadcast more online seminars from the vault of skate wisdom that is Fakie U.
As a sidebar, this afternoon I took the Fakiegrind mascot, Tiger, to the vet to have his anatomy...altered. While trying to prevent the frightened cat from carving my shoulder to shreds in the waiting room, I was asked by the receptionist if I would like any additional procedures for Tiger, such as a tattoo or the insertion of a microchip. Microchip? What, and give the techno-corps another method by which to spy on me thus turning my feline companion into an unwitting accomplice to evil? No thank you. As for the tattoo, what could a cat possibly want in that department? "I love kibble" or some such thing? And the fur would obscure the design anyways. Bad idea, all around.
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4 comments:
i think a tat around the belly area reading - "got milk" would work well for a female feline. maybe just the letters T-I-G-E-R across the back shoulders for the masculine mascot!
Here in the north end, a cat without a tat is like a tassled leather jacket without the mullet!
indeed.
thanks. i think i can remember chalk wheels, but that is pushing it. i never had metal wheels nailed to a milk crate!
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