From: malc@pyramid.unr.edu (Malcolm L. Carlock)
Subject: The Naming of Cats in the Hot, Dark City (Re: Books today)
Keywords: Raymond Chandler, T. S. Eliot
Newsgroups: alt.best.of.internet
From: bhoughto@hopi.intel.com Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Subject: The Naming of Cats in the Hot, Dark City (Re: Books today) Message-ID: <11395@inews.intel.com> Date: 4 Jun 92 20:20:13 GMT
In article <1992Jun4.002314.6590@terminator.cc.umich.edu> ajd@itl.itd.umich.edu (AjD) writes: > _The Wasteland_ by Martin Rowson. A comic book pastiche of Raymond > Chandler and T.S. Eliot. The drawings don't look all that great. > I hope the writing makes up for it.
I clicked the safety off my automatic, and Grizabella slipped her tail under my ass.
"Name the cat," I growled at Rumpleteaser. He squirmed on the fuzzy, ineffable pillow. It looked inviting, with its tassels and the faint odor of old catnip resin rising from its velour cover. I poked the gat at him again.
"Why do you want to know?" he purred. His felininity was making me sick. I began to hack a little, but I held it back.
"Call me curious."
Grizabella was on her back by now, rubbing against the hardwood floor. She had eight taut tits, and I'd never been "fixed." It distracted me long enough for Mungojerrie to jump from the next building into the window and sink his fangs into my rump. I hissed once and pumped two hot lead-mice into his ear.
When I looked back up, Rumpleteaser was gone. Grizabella slinked onto the pillow and sat there, looking at me with those inscrutable, vertical slitted, yellow-green eyes of hers.
"What are you gonna do now, fur-ball?" she purred. I leapt on her, shedding my trench-coat on the jump. Her neck felt good between my teeth and the way her tail curled around my back made me think of the first time I ever did it doggie-style. Her tongue lashed at the air, and her eyes were welded shut. She enjoyed it. Then it was over. She licked her paws, and I licked my balls.
I put my coat back on, slipped my rod into my pocket, and left through the door.
--Blair
"I'd like a single scoop of pastiche
with crushed lock-nuts on top, please.
In a cone."
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