Saturday, September 5, 2009

Foley Monster apologizes to Hobo Hudson 's work force

There are times in life that we are forced to do things we don’t desire. Like getting dressed in a Halloween costume, getting our picture taken then put on line so people can vote and win $1,000 for our local shelter but instead of the winnings going to the shelter Mommy keeps it and spends it on Ambien and Grey Goose so she can get through the night with all those “freaking kids banging on the door then stealing all the Kit-Kat bars.”

Today I must issue an apology to the cats that work for Hobo Hudson. They are upset that I nipped Snowball when he allegedly was trying to enter his own home, but in reality was a cat burglar looking to abscond with some of my neighbor’s nip. I had promised the President not to talk about this, but since he can’t even get a five-minute segment on Schoolhouse Rock approved, I do not fear retribution.

I certainly never meant to cause any problems for my friend Hobo. He has been gracious enough to hire cats. I don’t know if you kitties have walked around Tampa, but many of the stores have “Help Wanted / Kitties Need Not Apply” signs; but that did not stop Hobo from reaching across the aisle and hiring you furry freaks of nature.

(Note to all the kitties in the Tanner Brigade: I am not referring to you. You are the world’s best kitties and I am proud to call you my friends. I know you all understand what happened with Snowball, and none of you are dumb enough to work for the slave wages Hobo pays.)

So please, go back to work for Double H. It’s not like anyone else is going to hire you. Let’s face it: You work five minutes for every hour you spend licking yourself like you’re working your way to a prize at the bottom of a Crackerjack box then are stunned when you cough up this giant ball of hair which even grosses out the Guinea Pigs.

Plus you’re nocturnal. Up all night doing god knows what. And don’t deny it because I see all of you when I stumble home at 3:00 AM after I get my drunk on. Who wants a staff that sleeps all day? OK, outside of Congress.

And your bathroom habits are absolutely disgusting. You go inside in a box. I mean who wants to hire someone who won’t go outside to do his Vicks? Nobody is hiring Pocket. That’s why she’s doing what everyone else does who can’t get hired for a job, running for political office. Plus Hobo probably has to clean the box, god knows the cats won’t, they’re too busy licking their paws. My Vicks either are absorbed in the earth to help flowers grow or end up on some kids shoe who tracks in the house and gets yelled at by their Mom.

So I hope you accept my sincere apology and the kind words I have for you kitties, and I ahope you go back to work for my friend Hobo. At least it will get you freaks off the street.

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