Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

It was in the late sixties. We lived in a commune, a big house on the highest hill in Denton County. Buncha hippies. There was copious pot and LSD. We also had a kitten. Her name was Hillary. Somebody gave her acid. I think she was too young to handle it, but who is to say what is too young?

Hillary was a cancer so she was already prone to walking crab-sideways. But after the acid she had a change of accent. The meow became MEEEow. It was all about her.

Some animals aren't ready for a cosmic experience.

Hillary became the most impossible and demanding pest imaginable. She would jump in your plate while you were eating. Obnoxious MEowing ME ME ME MEowing. Feed me. Pay attention to me. ME ME ME.

Eventually nobody wanted anything to do with the pussy.

In case anybody wonders, I split the posts that were on this long and exhausting thread and moved them all to the Dumpster. Clay, I will reinstate your admin privileges just to keep the peace. The only reason I removed them is because you admitted you were just a "member" here and since you never do anything administratively anyway.

Sorry for the drama. It was all about "me" after all.

Real cute parable, Clay.

thank you, mastah

and to think, only twentyone people have read dark house by constantine which I think should be required reading for anyone who can read...makes you wonder.

yes it does