If your cat were your roommate

or, "Why being into cats is essentially the same as being into psychotic tweakers."


"Your roommate scurries off into the darkness again, once more without a sound, but gives you only a few seconds to freak out about this latest episode as you soon hear your roommate scrambling haphazardly, apparently completely devoid of the quiet grace in use only seconds earlier, over your furniture, running head-first into a stack of boxes, leaping to the side, glancing over at you quickly, then trying to play it cool, like everything that just happened went exactly as planned and oh, were you watching all that finesse? 'cause that was nothing for a smooth character such as myself. At least as much as one can look like that while featuring pupils the size of nickels."