By Popular Request

The Jack-O-Lanterns
My son's.
My daughter's
Mine.

And now, portraits of the artists:
My Daughter
My Son.

And now, an angry cat.
Why is she angry? We don't know. Perhaps it's because I'm not brushing her. Of course, if I was brushing her, she'd be angry about that. Perhaps it's because there are no mice. That's because she killed them all. When we moved in to our house, there were mice. Five minutes later there were no mice, and my cat wasn't quite as angry. She's been this way for fifteen years. She once killed a mouse in my ex-wife's bra.*


And now, the very rare chrono-cat.
This is an extremely unusual breed, in that it knows what time its human sets his alarm clock, and will wake him up to be fed one half-hour before the alarm goes off--regardless of what time the alarm is set. The waking technique is by rattling the bedroom doorknob, making it sound exaclty like someone is about to enter the room.** I'm sure the chrono-cat is on the other side, silently cursing the fact that it was born without thumbs. It has been suggested that I leave the bedroom door ajar, thus allowing the chrono-cat access to the bedroom. However, if this is done, the chrono-cat uses its alternate waking technique, which entails lying on the bed in such a way that the human wakes up to a face full of furry chrono-cat butt.

The show's over, folks. Move along.

Yeharr

*My wife wasn't wearing it at the time.
**Which is always the sound one wishes to hear when waking from a deep sleep.