Freaky Friday LbNA # 16392
|Placed Date||Jul 7 2005|
|Found By||Little Chief|
|Last Found||Aug 7 2005|
Notice: Freaky Friday's hiding place has deteriorated and no longer exists. Watch for future clues leading to the replacement of this box.
Our son, George, got a Siamese cat, which was a big mistake! I knew that, when she ate the candles off his birthday cake. She was a birthday present, so that put me in a rut. I couldn’t open up the door and toss her on her butt.
Believe me, that darn cat was pretty freaky, that’s for sure! That’s why he named her Friday. Freaky Friday, that was her! I never saw a cat with such a crazy appetite! Unless you nailed it down, she ate up everything in sight!
When something came up missing, we all knew where it was at. More than likely, it was nestled in the belly of that cat! The dust mop disappeared last month. I have a sneaking hunch, I know exactly what ol’ Friday had that day for lunch!
One day she ate nine biscuits and a bag of Tator Tots, then she gobbled up the houseplants. All she left was empty pots. For dessert, she had a cotton ball, a plate of table scraps, a bar of soap, a ballpoint pen and seven bottle caps!
George lost his K-State stocking cap, but we knew where it was, when Friday started gagging, then burped up some purple fuzz. She gobbled up the plunger there behind the bathroom door. As for our goldfish, let’s just say, we don’t have any more.
I chased her ‘round the yard one day. She turned and headed south, then zipped on past the birdbath with my cell phone in her mouth. Although I finally caught that cat, I never found the phone, but for days, that kitty’s belly had a definite dial tone!
We learned to live with extra short shoelaces in our shoes, and we learned to hide the newspaper before she ate the news. She’d jump up on the table if some food was left up there, and if you didn’t watch that cat, she’d eat the silverware!
My hubby swore a little and was slightly out of sorts, when he found her in the hamper, snarfing down his under shorts! She snacked on George’s socks and he forgave the little dear, but when she ate his baseball glove, he kicked her in the rear!
Well, anyhow, one day when George was home all by himself, he spied my old worn cookbook lying there upon a shelf. He wanted to surprise me, so he found a mixing bowl, and he flipped the pages in that book to find a casserole.
Well, he couldn’t find a single recipe to save his neck, so it seems he threw that cookbook down and muttered, “What the heck! Who needs a cookbook anyhow? I’ll make a special kind!” Then he opened up the fridge to see what goodies he could find.
“I think I’ll start with eggs,” he thought, “then add this oyster stew, and dump in lots of chocolate syrup and pickle relish too!” He threw in some spaghetti and he stirred it once or twice, then he added some molasses and a little chili spice.
“If this ain’t good,” he told himself, “it sure won’t be my fault!” Then he threw in a tomato and a heaping cup of salt. Next, he added some red peppers and a can of mushroom stems, then he topped it off with garlic and a bag of M&M’s.
And then he took a taste. “Yuck! Sick and nasty!” he exclaimed. “This horrible tasting stuff would gag a maggot!” he complained. “Oh, well, ol’ Friday’s bound to snarf it down in nothing flat!” So he dumped it in a dishpan and he fed it to the cat.
Straight for that pan, rushed Friday, and she started chowin’ down, then she gave a mighty yowl that could be heard all over town! She hissed and sputtered, coughed and spit! That cat was plumb upset! Then she leaped straight out the window and she took off like a jet!
Like lightning, she whizzed by my feet as I came up the walk. Poor George was standing at the door. His face was white as chalk! I thought she’d stop there at the gate, but no, she raced right past. I never knew that lazy cat could move so doggone fast!
Her hair was standing straight on end, like she was scared to death. I called, “Here, kitty, kitty,” but I should have saved my breath! “We’ve got to catch her!” George exclaimed. “Come back, you stupid cat!” But, around a bend she zoomed, and disappeared in nothing flat!
We started chasing after her. My heart was in my mouth! And then I spied her long, slim tail and it was headed south. “Come on!” yelled George. “Let’s track her down! She can’t be hard to find!” So on we ran, George in the lead and me not far behind.
We ran straight north from Stockton, down Highway one eighty three, straight on to Glade, then turned off west, there at the Triple C. Down Highway 9, we traveled. We were very pooped, indeed, but on we ran for seven miles until we sped by Speed!
Then, one mile west of Speed, that cat turned north just like a shot! Six Hundred Road, a small sign said. My legs were goin’ to pot! Another mile, we had to run! That darn cat never slowed, until we saw a sign ahead that said, West Victory Road.
Well, that’s when Friday finally stopped. Had our wild journey ceased? “Hooray!” I thought. Then, just like that, she turned and headed east! She zipped past two flat tree stumps in the field there to her right, then, off she scampered, down the dusty road with all her might.
My feet were numb! My poor old head was ready to explode! And then we saw the tree there on the north side of the road. We spied the leafless branches spreading out there just ahead...a sad and lonely specimen, gigantic, bare and DEAD!
It had no shade to offer and no beauty to admire, but Friday headed for it like her rear end was on fire! She raced headlong into the trunk. Believe me, it was weird! It seemed that tree just swallowed her, ‘cause, “Poof,” she disappeared!
Well, when we finally reached that tree, no Siamese cat we spied, but, then I saw her bright green eyeballs, glowing there inside! I moved aside a slab of wood. She glared at me and spat, and then she dove beneath a rock and vanished, just like that!
I tipped the rock and tugged at her. “Good gosh!” I cried, in shock. “I think that cat is super glued to that confounded rock!” She glared at me and licked her chops. I didn’t like those eyes! She looked at me as if I were a plate of curly fries!
Then, George said, “Let me try it,” so as slowly as a snail, he reached in very carefully and grabbed her by the tail. She hunched her back and hissed at him. Poor George completely froze! Next thing we knew, ol’ Friday’s teeth were wrapped around his nose!
She scratched his arms! She scratched his knees! She scratched his ankles too! The blood was running down his leg and dripping in his shoe! “This stinks!” he cried. “I’m gonna find myself a brand new cat!” Then, off he raced, back down the road, and left her where she sat.
I’m sure that cat will still be there from early dawn ‘til dark, just hiding ‘neath that stupid rock and piggin’ out on bark. In case you’d like to hunt her down, then do so if you dare, but wear some gloves, a helmet, and some leather underwear!
Now, this story has a moral. If you make a casserole, and you find it isn’t fit to eat, go dump it in a hole. Or poke it down the laundry chute or underneath the mat. Just flush it, but for Heaven’s sake, don’t feed it to your cat!
In case that road is muddy, you’ll be trapped inside your car, like some old Tom cat with his head stuck in a pickle jar!