Bathing Pussies Part II

In case you are wondering what the HELL the title is all about… do check out The Traveling Spotlight today. You’ll be glad you did.


So the RcktMan household has another member today. Well just for one day at least. I couldn’t let him sleep at Man’s Country after all. I can only imagine the trouble he’d get into. I mean… think of it. A new guy, in a new town, seeing new (and I use that term loosely) sights. Sets the stage for quite an adventure if you ask me.

I had pity on our dear Patrick. He is in town for a job interview, after all. I couldn’t let him walk into the interview and refuse the offer to take a seat. Because it would hurt too much. You know what I mean.

He was going to take the train into the city, but I couldn’t trust him with that. I figured he’d pick up some homeless person and go back to his shack for a little one-on-one fun. My guilty conscience couldn’t let that happen. So I offered to pick him up at the airport. He jumped at the chance. After all, wouldn’t you want to get picked up at the airport by someone you never met face-to-face before? I figured he’d think it was hot. I was right.

We called Tuna Girl on the way home. She told me to watch out for him and keep him in line. I told her that was my intention from day one. We both know that if you take your eyes off on this one, he’s liable to disappear. (I done good, TG. He’s still here.)

So he offered to buy me dinner as payment for services rendered the use of my sofa. I accepted, of course. I had images of a lavish dinner at one of Andersonville’s finer dining establishments, but Patrick suggested McDonald’s or Wendy’s. I compromised and suggested T’s, which is at the end of my block. Good food, decent prices, and no drive-thru windows to be seen. Thank goodness I got my way this time.

We came back to my place, and the cats immediately took to him like a cheap whore on a rich man. They haven’t left him alone yet. I’m actually sort of amused by it, until he started playing with my pussies. I’m worried about them now. They may never be the same again. He kept playing “Pippin being born” (see below) with the poor guy. He’s been hiding in the litter box all night and won’t come out. Poor Screech’s legs are crossed and he won’t shut up. Damn him!!!

I’m starting to wonder whatever possessed me to take in this guy in the first place. Could it have been his boyish charm? His sense of humor? His slutty ways? His way around a kitchen? No… I guess I just wanted the company. After all, it has been a rough week already.

OK OK OK… in truth, I was really happy to host Patrick and we have had a great time finally meeting face-to-face. And yes, he is sleeping on the sofa. Probably with the cats.

You can take the boy out of the pussy, but you can’t take the pussy out of the boy.

Or something like that.

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