My Cat is an Alien

My Cat is an Alien

My cat is an alien. More insidious than a little green Mars alien, more than an illegal alien, even more than an explode-out-of-your-chest-in-a-pool-of-convulsing-blood-and-gore kind of alien. He is an alien abductor. Furthermore, I contest that all cats are aliens and are preparing the human race for invasion. How do I know this? Well, I’ve observed the signs…

The other day, my cat horked up a hairball, and I swear it looked like Elvis. It was such a stunning rendition of the king that I could even see it looked like Mr. Presely had a tear in his eye. It was a message that Elvis sent because he was abducted by aliens and is being held on the home world; forced to sing, open cans of cat food, and clean litter boxes.

And, what’s with that horking-up-a-hairball noise, anyway? If you’ve ever heard it, it’s obviously not of this world. How can anything terrestrial make a noise like, “huuurrrkkkaaaa huuuurrrkkkaaa huuurrkkkaa gaaaaaaAAAaak… ” I have one word for you with regard to hairballs: trap. They barf on the floor to bait you into the exact position where the home world will beam subliminal thoughts into your brain. Well, I’m smarter than they are — I don’t clean them up. They’re not going to implant message in my brain, anymore.

Some say my cat has large ears. Well, to the uninformed neophyte, that may appear to be so. But, in reality, they are bi-directional-bio-satellite-communication devices. He receives messages from the mother ship with them. He sits quietly, ears erect, and then suddenly, when the message arrives, he slowly closes his eyes and concentrates deeply as he decodes the space-communication. Yea, yea, yea, it looks like he’s sleeping, but don’t you see? That’s what he wants you to think.

Have you ever noticed how a cat knows exactly which person in a room hates them the most? They identify this person using telepathic powers and then immediately begin rubbing on them. This way, they put their scent on them, to identify the rebels of society for annihilation when the invasion begins. This is also the reason they shed the most on people that are allergic to them: they are marking the weak to cull the herd.

So what about abductions? Abduction experiences happen frequently after a night of drinking. In fact, my boyfriend was also once abducted; I met him in my bed after a time-loss and sense of disorientation. The last thing I remembered before that blackout was challenging some guy named “Cletus” to a Boilermaker drinking contest. I awoke the next morning and my cat was on my chest, staring down at me with those big, cat-like, black eyes, narrow face, and bulbous head. My boyfriend was passed out next to me. The cat was eager to finish his subliminal encoding, because he left a hairball in my boyfriend’s shoe.

Strangely, I have been beamed aboard the mother ship numerous times for experimentation. After one particularly excessive night of drinking, I blacked out. I awoke in my room and then was taken aboard their ship. They took off my shoes, took off my clothing and then gave me some kind of strange probe. I woke up in my bed naked, confused, and with my cat sleeping on my head. There was a strange mark on my body — it looked like a hickey. I told my boyfriend about the incident, and he left me. Obviously, my boyfriend is in denial of the imminent threat of the aliens.

My final proof that my cat is an alien came just yesterday. I came home from a normal day at work and the stereo that my former boyfriend had left in my house was gone. So were his CD’s, all of the back issues of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editions, and that awful video of Pamela Anderson in bed with what’s-his-face. My only clue to the strange disappearance was the note that read, “next time, I’m taking the TV, too.” I knew it was my cat that took the items and left the message, because just like a signed confession, there was a fresh hairball on top of the note.

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