Warfare cont'd

A few days ago I wrote about toddler warfare. Per the request of my friend Hannah Ferrell, I've decided to extend the challenge to other relatively defenseless beings in this world, making it a full series on Warfare. Today's battle is with cats*. Let's go!

The other day I was walking down the streets of Cologne and a beautiful orange tabby kitten gamboled up to me playfully, seeking a bit of attention and perhaps a meal to boot. Seeing the forlorn look in its eye, I carefully picked it up, cradling it in my arms. It mewed pitifully and licked my hands, asking for a saucer of milk, a warm couch to curl up on and a bit of love. With the utmost care, I held it in front of me, gave it a gentle toss and punted it 30 yards into the air, where it landed with a resounding crash on a nearby Jaguar (ironic?).

With my coffin-corner punt firmly entrenched in the windshield of the luxury vehicle, I gave a resounding scream of triumph and whirled around, looking for my next unwary victim. However, the cats on this particular avenue were a bit more streetwise, and wouldn't be caught as unawares as their young fallen comrade. A small squadron of lean calicos stalked around the corner, quietly padding towards me with a steely resolve. I casually stepped sideways and took out the ball of catnip I always keep in my pocket for situations such as this. I tossed the catnip into the group, and seconds later hurled myself bodily into the group. 3 minutes later I walked away from the fray confidently, the broken bodies of a plethora of felines strewn around the empty street, lives extinguished. Feeling my job to be incomplete, I then went door-to-door, flicking house cats between the eyes then stuffing them into specially prepared cages full of rabid mice.

I continued my assault against the forces of felis catus throughout the day, showing no mercy to any mouser I came across. The visceral thrill of brandishing a literal cat o' nine tails against an elite phalanx of frenzied felines cannot be overstated. As I swung the live, bristling weapon against the bodies of countless pets, I felt that my warlike campaign was near a satisfying end. As an exclamation point, I seized three cats at a time, tying their tails together with a small space in the middle, just large enough for an old-fashioned torch. I set each trio on a purpose-made raft, and pushed them off into the Rhine, basking in the beautiful music of yowls my kitty torch created. My cat persecution was complete.

*Editor's note: The events in the above post are entirely fictional. No cats were harmed in the writing of this blog.