Not Cool For Cats.

The cat was staring at me and I stared right back at it. There was a mixture of the deer in the headlights and what the fuck are you going to do about it look in the cats eyes. It knew I had caught him taking a shit in the flower bed and it was waiting for my move.

I leaned my bike against the shed and slowly bent down to pick up a rock never breaking eye contact. I made my best baseball pitchers impression and whipped the stone in the direction. CRACK! The stone hit the fence no more than a foot away from the cat. The cat jumped four feet into the air, skidded across the damp lawn, and scrambled over the fence into the neighbours yard. It was never my intent to hit the cat just to scare the shit out of it. Which I'm sure I did literally.

The next morning I go through my routine and head to the back door. I slide open the glass door and start to walk out when I get a feeling like I should look down.

Right where my foot would have landed there is a tightly coiled pile of cat shit. The little fucker almost got his revenge.

This is one of the many reasons I think cats are the evil spawn of Satan himself. Well that and the fact that I'm allergic to them.

This story is true. You can ask my mom.