Current mood:	groggy
Current music:	Cartoon heroes - Aqua

Demon Cat.
No, not Morris. Morris is my darling little sweetums.
But I finally think I found out why cats have been associated with evil spirits throughout the ages. His name is Felix and he lives in Washington Heights.

He's actually John's cat from college. He's this weird black and white cat who only has one tooth, a big friggin' tumor-lookin' mole on the side of his face, and who needs to have a pill forced down his throat every day. I always thought he was kind of cute, in an ugly way, but Cat has been complaining about him ever since she and John moved in together. Now I know why.

Last night we all went to a Rear Admirals show in the city and I crashed at their place after Cat pulled me away from some amorous pirate-looking guy at the bar (long story).

Anyhow, they put me in the second bedroom, which I now know is Felix's bedroom. I was awakened at 6 am by the door shaking and an unearthly yowling. I sat bolt upright, which is a difficult thing when you've had 12 jack and cokes the night before.
The door was actually shaking in its frame, and there were two little black and white paws protruding from under the door. How 10 pounds of aging cat can move a door like that I don't know.
Anyways, I guess I didn't get to the door in time because there was this ghastly gagging sound and then this brown slime started seeping under the door, next to the paws. I opened the door and yup - he'd vomited all over the floor and himself.
Total exorcist cat. Makes me grateful for my smart-ass kitty.