What are these pangs
That wake me from my slumber?
Hunger?!? You devilish *******
My own worst enemy, what ***** is this?
Come to fight me on my own turf,
How dare you? Not even bothering to show your own face.
How fare you? So poor that you must come bother me,
A plump little house cat such as I, truly
You disgust me. Hiss.
.......
From the land of the warming rays you would pluck me
My own sacred home, you disrupt me!
But of course Hunger never goes away on its own,
It’ll ***** at you and **** and wear you down to the bone
Until you feed it some delicate morsel,
Like tuna, perhaps. I was always partial
Towards tuna.
.......
Hunger’s a real witty foe, too,
Never facing you head on, no
It’s much too smart for that.
The fool makes you walk to the kitchen.
That’s about thirty ****** steps for me,
God I despise it; but then of course I have to prep for it!
Mewing pitifully and rolling around on my back,
Enticing that lazy-arse human to tally from his track
And come feed me. Jesus, pity me,
I know I do.
........
“Oh, look at the cute little kitty fuzz awww”
Oh **** off and feed me you ****
“Aw but you’re such a fat little cat! You don’t need the food!”
I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch it, what was that?
I’m dying of hunger over here, mate.
You’re not going to feed me? Just walk away?
Very well, you’ve made your play.
I’m gonna go **** in your shoes,
How’s that for a how-do-you-do?
........
Hunger, my mortal enemy, my only friend,
You’ve won this fight, but it’s not the end.
You might grumble my stomach in sweet revelry,
Taking joy in my delicious misery-
But hark, what’s this before me??
Oh hunky dory, ~purr~
... There’s no way he’s this stupid, for sure...
Oh, but there is, though it cannot be!
My master’s, (unawares), left out a morsel for me.
You hear that, Hunger, it’s fantastic, I’ve won!
(Even though you’re victory had only just begun),
Dear fat master had left out his food, you see
And now I shall feast and set my hunger free.
For in front of me, O Sweet Salvation!
... A sandwich, for my consumer-ation.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
What are these pangs
That wake me from my slumber?
Hunger?!? You devilish *******
My own worst enemy, what ***** is this?
Come to fight me on my own turf,
How dare you? Not even bothering to show your own face.
How fare you? So poor that you must come bother me,
A plump little house cat such as I, truly
You disgust me. Hiss.
.......
From the land of the warming rays you would pluck me
My own sacred home, you disrupt me!
But of course Hunger never goes away on its own,
It’ll ***** at you and **** and wear you down to the bone
Until you feed it some delicate morsel,
Like tuna, perhaps. I was always partial
Towards tuna.
.......
Hunger’s a real witty foe, too,
Never facing you head on, no
It’s much too smart for that.
The fool makes you walk to the kitchen.
That’s about thirty ****** steps for me,
God I despise it; but then of course I have to prep for it!
Mewing pitifully and rolling around on my back,
Enticing that lazy-arse human to tally from his track
And come feed me. Jesus, pity me,
I know I do.
........
“Oh, look at the cute little kitty fuzz awww”
Oh **** off and feed me you ****
“Aw but you’re such a fat little cat! You don’t need the food!”
I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch it, what was that?
I’m dying of hunger over here, mate.
You’re not going to feed me? Just walk away?
Very well, you’ve made your play.
I’m gonna go **** in your shoes,
How’s that for a how-do-you-do?
........
Hunger, my mortal enemy, my only friend,
You’ve won this fight, but it’s not the end.
You might grumble my stomach in sweet revelry,
Taking joy in my delicious misery-
But hark, what’s this before me??
Oh hunky dory, ~purr~
... There’s no way he’s this stupid, for sure...
Oh, but there is, though it cannot be!
My master’s, (unawares), left out a morsel for me.
You hear that, Hunger, it’s fantastic, I’ve won!
(Even though you’re victory had only just begun),
Dear fat master had left out his food, you see
And now I shall feast and set my hunger free.
For in front of me, O Sweet Salvation!
... A sandwich, for my consumer-ation.
i had sort of imagined this being read in a sort of stuck up, lazy british accent.