Mark Snot was the richest guy in New York. His four daughters raised cats that out-stank all others. They were known for their personalities and their price tags. Each one of their kittens sold for a small sum of six thousand, plus shipping and handling. The kitten came with a birth certificate, a house, a brush, cat shampoo and a cat bath tub, a personal feline pedicure kit, and cat clothes. Amazingly they actually sold. Like fish-food for starving fishes. So this would have to be the place that P.T. and his gang would strike next!
The thing for me to do was catch them in the act of the catnapping. Maybe I could even catch it on film! Then I would anonymously leave the video with the police and everything would be fixed! A little piece of the world put to rights.
I flew to the Snot Mansion and patrolled the roof. The sky was darkening in the east, with the sunset sprawled on the west horizon as the crickets began to sing. First it was just light chirping and then they began their full-out balled, the sounds twisting and weaving into and out of each other like a carefully woven shawl. It was so beautiful I could have cried.
But then it stopped.
Not a peep did the crickets make as I crept to the edge of the roof. Not a sound as I peered over. Nothing but silence as I saw three dark forms slinking across the lawn.
It was then that I began to realize my calling. I flew down close to P.T. and his gang and after adjusting the video camera I had borrowed from Donna, in my mouth I began to film them walking up the Snot Mansion. The joys of getting angles and the right lighting really appealed to me, and I found that I was meant to film movies.
But the only problem was that I was so caught up in the adventure of filming my first-ever movie that I forgot where I was going and crashed into a hedge.
The thing for me to do was catch them in the act of the catnapping. Maybe I could even catch it on film! Then I would anonymously leave the video with the police and everything would be fixed! A little piece of the world put to rights.
I flew to the Snot Mansion and patrolled the roof. The sky was darkening in the east, with the sunset sprawled on the west horizon as the crickets began to sing. First it was just light chirping and then they began their full-out balled, the sounds twisting and weaving into and out of each other like a carefully woven shawl. It was so beautiful I could have cried.
But then it stopped.
Not a peep did the crickets make as I crept to the edge of the roof. Not a sound as I peered over. Nothing but silence as I saw three dark forms slinking across the lawn.
It was then that I began to realize my calling. I flew down close to P.T. and his gang and after adjusting the video camera I had borrowed from Donna, in my mouth I began to film them walking up the Snot Mansion. The joys of getting angles and the right lighting really appealed to me, and I found that I was meant to film movies.
But the only problem was that I was so caught up in the adventure of filming my first-ever movie that I forgot where I was going and crashed into a hedge.
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