Chalk up another fourteen lives saved thanks to Ms. Muffins, the disaster predicting cat.
Her owner, Greg Willows noticed his kitten digging and immediately ran to see what she had gotten into. Was it some acorns hidden away by her furry nemesis? No, it was the bridge schematic for the Adams Street Bridge in Ohio. How’d that get in there? Who knows?
Mr. Willows called the proper authorities and they managed to evacuate moments before it collapsed.
We’re reminded once again that we live in a twisted world where our protector sleeps sixteen hours a day. God help us all.
We talked about this a dozen times. No, this is not my lawyer talking. You can’t just show up drunk expecting to see my daughter. I understand that. No she is my daughter. Look being a swan with the ability to mentally communicate and breed with humans is great. It really is. We both know you’ll never be a father to him. This is not overreacting. We need to come to a simple agreement of avoidance.
No, you don’t get to do that. Filling my mind with our song is not going to help you on this one. No putting the smell of brownies won’t help ether. Great, now I’m just pissed off and I want brownies.
After an investigation and as requested, misconceptions regarding events previously pronounced were redacted from this publication. A comprehensive list of these changes is available at the request of citizens with proper clearance.
We strive to achieve perfection and wholeheartedly regret when misinterpreted events find their way into the records. Moving forward we will attempt to work with the authority to ensure accurate recording.
We would like to remind the reader that there were never any children of age capable of attaining superintendence.
We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused the royal family and acknowledge them for their loyalty.
The term “Published According to Original Copies” appears mostly in regards to reprinted Shakespeare works, but it just has this weird ominous tone that for some reason led to regicide.
Why aren’t you listening to me?
You have my fullest attention. Your name is Kendra and this is your cat named Muffins. You are six and today you stopped by to warn me about a world…what was it?
A world-wide economic collapse, Muffins is certain it will occur too.
Will it now? Did my husband send you?
There’s no time, the fate of millions depends on your willingness to stabilize a volatile marketplace.
Come on in, I think I would like to learn more about this worldwide thingy. We have apple pie and if you want we can get some ice cream.
Let’s not just run off in a huff Muffins. No, we can stay for a slice. Leaving would be rude.
Would Muffin like sprinkles?
Oh you have sprinkles? We talked it over; we can stay for a slice, but only one.
Head right into the living room.
Dear Sir/Madam/Transmogrified Devil
This letter is in regards to my experience at the Ultek Transmogrified Therapy Center in Burbank.
After completing your paperwork and providing a picture of my wife, I was ushered into a room containing a child. I spent twenty minutes in silence before a staff member apologetically entered, informing me I was in the wrong room.
Chirping happily, the child melted into a heap before turning into an optimistically beaming version of my dead wife.
I don’t know how healing works on your planet, but watching my wife form from a melted child is not therapeutic.
I demand a refund.