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December 16, 2004


Miss Manners

Has Misspent sent Hobbes a note of apology as yet?

Mrs. Peperium

Since Misspent has been sent packing on a tramp steamer to the early 19th century, what do you think? We are a forgiving family. That's why the ticket is roundtrip.


Thankfully the FCC has authority over broadband and its power is retroactive to the 19th century, so I'm able to get the web and e-mail. I say thankfully, becaue it has allowed me to read all these terrible slanders that have been said against me. Mr. and Mrs. P, you should know that libel laws are very strict in 19th century, and by the time I get a judgement against you it will have become quite large due to compounded interest and when I get back I fully expect to take possession of all your assets and will sell your darling children into white slavery in The Sudan. Not so happy about that return ticket, are ye?

First off, I did not vomit on the cat. I am allergic to cats, so I would be nowhere near him.

Second, Misspent is both my Christian and surname. Like Cher.

Third, I don't know why there is this ongoing impression that I am a stumbling fool. Granted, I am a bit unstable in the mental department, but I am by no means this physical mess that you have created me to be. Whatever mental instability I do have is very well contained and controlled. It is a simmering madness.

You had better clean up your house before I get back. I don't want to take possession of a dump.

Mrs. Peperium

Misspent, I put some left over limes from the party in your valise to ward off scurvy.


Listen, Mom, this blithering old sod stumbled into the Kitchen yesterday dead drunk. He was fingering through the garbage and had just begun gnawing on a pork chop bone when he spotted me. Immediately, he went into a panic, began to choke, and finally heaved his guts up on yours truly.

Call the police, rent a time machine, and have him arrested and incarcerated before he pukes on Jane Austen. I'll be glad to testify in court. (And that guy who backed over the tricycle saw him do it.)

Sincerely, your truth-telling and trusted family pet.


So it was Soames!! Here is proof, straight from the cat's mouth. There are many things I am mistaken for, but "blithering old sod" is certainly NOT one of them.


Soames wasn't rifling the garbage looking for half-eaten pork chops. He's simply too proper for that. But he's not too proper for snitching and he will be more than happy to finger you. (And it shouldn't take much more than another bottle of daddy's bubbly to get him squawking.)

Who's going to believe you anyway? Just read that last post, you're talking to cats for pity sake. It's hard to know what to say about your condition, other than "Meow."


That is it! I am now holding in my hands the 19th century ancestor of that damn cat and one more slur and SNAP! No more Hobbes the Cat.

I serious.

Mrs. Peperium

Hobbes! What are your paws doing on the computer? I knew Mr. P. was pushing things thing he taught you to read. Then he had to go and teach you to drive. Did he teach you type? Could you teach me?


Alright. Alright. Take it easy, I confess. It wasn't Misspent at all. It was me. I'm the one who trolled through the trash eating the garbage. But I couldn't take the shame. When Misspent walked in from the backyard and caught me I was afraid he'd get me thrown out in the cold. I had no choice but to roll around in the chicken gravy and coffee grounds and try to frame him for barfing on me. And,
dammit, if I was only a little taller, had opposable thumbs, and could play a musical instrument, I know I could have gotten away with it.

Are you happy now, Misspent? Pardon me, but I have to go to my litter to be alone. . .think about what I'm going to do with my life now. . .and. . .and cough up a big hair ball.

Mrs. Peperium

Hobbes, that was very admirable of you to take the blame for somone else's MISdeeds. But I know it wasn't you.

J. Cochraine

Hobbes is innocent! Look at the facts: what is he? A Cat. And what is another meaning of the word "cat"? A side man. A blower of brass and a keeper of time. A jazz player. In other words: An African American, my friends. This is just another attempt by right-wing extremists to railroad a cat, a brother, and a fellow sufferer under the heel of injustice! No opposable thumbs or ability to play a musical instruments? You guys sound like the house of bishops of the Episcopal Church! At least the white guys in the House. See you in court.


If you don't shut up, my great great great great grandcatty is gonna get his neck snapped.

Mr. Peperium

By the way, has anyone else noticed that my wife is now running a dating service for the terminally deceased?

the Cardinal's wife

I just woke up. Hang over I suppose. What's all this stuff about a talking cat?
I guess I'm still drunk.

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