5.9 A NOTE TO MY READERS

Comrades, it has been many weeks since I’ve been able to update. After my last post, the Roommates discovered how I had cleverly imprisoned Oliver.

Unfortunately, Oliver worked his black devil magic, and in a twisted and completely unexpected turn of events, the Roommates became angry with ME!

I know, I know — I had a hard time believing it too.  In what kind of cruel, dystopian world could it be considered a crime for me to lock up Oliver and leave him to die in his own filth?  I still have a hard time with it.

Anyway, my computer privileges were taken away.  But now I’m back, and if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that life is unjust, and the only solution is to pick yourself up, put on a smile, and terrorize the ones you hate.

3.4 TRIUMPH! JUBILANCE! EXULTATION!

Comrades… my dear, dear comrades.

Victory is ours.

I am pleased to announce that OPERATION: OLICAUST was a grand success.  After imprisoning Oliver – a feat which required the kind of agility, mental genius, and stunningly good looks that only I possess – I menacingly taunted him for hours.  He pretended to think it was a game, but I know that underneath that moronically cheerful exterior is a cat with a broken soul.

Figure 15.  What you know bout me?  What you, what you know bout me?

I think I’ll have a nice warm bath and think about Oliver’s starving, cramped, immobile body slowly deteriorating in catjail.

2.28 THE OLICAUST BEGINS

My week of artistic solitude greatly invigorated me, reconfirming my commitment to destroying He Who Shall Not Be Named And, Also, Is Retarded (abbr., HWSNBNAAIR).

After conducting an extensive review of military organization and strategy, I have put together an elaborate and detailed plan of action:

Figure 14.  The takedown of HWSNBNAAIR requires a combination of tactical strength, knowledge of the environment, and contemporary military strategy.

2.23 THE PHANTOM OF THE CAT-PERA

My passionate hatred has unleashed a wave of creative brilliance, so I’ve secluded myself in the living room and composed for the past few days.

Figure 13.  Taking a break from my artistic suffering to look fierce.

My work, entitled “Mr. Cosmo’s Opus,” is a seven hour long journey through the depths of my pain since Oliver moved in.  It’s divided into 23 sections, each communicating an emotion I’ve experienced since he arrived: hatred, anger, depression, murderous loathing, spite,  frustration, shock, under-appreciation, defiance, bitterness, outrage, wrath, terror for the future, repulsion, bloated, doom, ill humor, violent, and then I close with five more interpretations of “hatred.”  Rihanna will be doing backup vocals.

SPREAD THE LOATHE

From time to time I like to take a break from the monotony of violently harassing Oliver and take a moment to reflect on all the other things that I hate.  And my, how many things there are!

#1.  Children who enjoy reading.
Listen, nerd, I understand that your frizzy hair and glasses make it difficult to make friends, but for the love of God, find a hobby that isn’t so incredibly annoying.  “Oh, look at me, I like the library.  Learning is so great.  I hope I get books for my birthday.”  Could you please stop being a loser for like, five seconds?  You should be hoping for popularity, cool shoes, or a drug habit like normal kids.  Go to hell, you annoying little pricks.

#2.  Myspace.
If I wanted to see what you look like in a picture taken on an angle from the upper corner of your mirror, I’d install a camera in your bathroom.  At least then I’d be able to blackmail you.

#3.  Videos of dogs “speaking”.
Your dog is not speaking English.  He is barking.  No, Sparky did not just say “I love you,” he made a weird noise because his tiny brain is just functional enough to realize that you’ll give him a treat whenever he makes it.  Your dog is too stupid to speak English, because your dog is a fucking dog.

#4.  Them.

Figure 12.  Winter is cold, but you would look better with blackened, frozen ears falling off your head than you do with these hats on.

2.5 AN OPEN LETTER

Oliver:

I feel it’s time for me to address you directly. There have been many awkward exchanges, many misinterpretations, many uncomfortable encounters in this transitional period of our lives.

I know we’ve had our differences in the past.
And I just want you to know, from the bottom of my heart…. that we still have them.

I hope you die.  I hope you die, come back to life, and die again.  I hope you die, come back to life, fall asleep and dream that you died, wake up relieved to realize you’re still alive, and then die.  If I had named you, I would have named you O-die-r instead of O-live-r, because I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.  The right impression is that I want you to die.

I hate you more than going to the vet.  I hate you more than having my butt touched.  I hate you more than I hated you yesterday.  I hate you more than Rush Limbaugh hates himself.

You’re so ugly.  Every time I say something to you I have to say it twice, once at each end of your body, because I can’t tell the difference between your ass and your face.

Sometimes I think that we could work things out.  That maybe I’m overreacting, maybe I should get to know who you are inside.

Psych!  By the way, that’s what your mom said to me last night.

There’s only room for one cat in this house, and I’m telling you right now that it ain’t you, babe.  This is your last chance to leave, Oliver Newton John.  You have been warned.

Death to you,
Cosmo

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY INDIFFERENT

Figure 11.  No.

1.31 UPDATE: NEVERMIND.

Jesus Christ.

Figure 10. Seriously?

1.31 GRAVE NEWS

Comrades, I fear that a second nemesis has moved in.

It calls itself “The Spudger.”

Caitlin Roommate brought it over today, and Jerad Roommate used it to fiddle around with her cat-viewing machine.  You know, one of those things that Roommates use to go on the internet and look at cats.  Well, Jerad Roommate and Megan Roommate were quite taken with it, and now they barely even look at me!  Spudger this, Spudger that.  Spudger my ass, you heartless bastards.

Figure 8. The Spudger being used on CVM

Figure 9.  The Spudger in Roommate hair

Drastic action must be taken.

I must briefly join forces with Oliver so that we can eliminate this threat.

Crazy?  Indeed.  But painfully necessary.

1.26 WE’S ABOUT TO GET REAL

Things are looking bleak.  Caitlin Roommate spent the night on Saturday, and much to my dismay she seems to have turned — even going so far as to retract her assertion that Oliver is a retard.  They cuddled on the couch in a perverted display of betrayal.  My dearest Internet Roommates, it seems I am alone in my mission.

It’s time to turn it up a notch.
It’s time to take a more radical approach.

From now on, Oliver will start his day with a bowl of Frosted Shredded Dreams and end his day praying for deliverance.  GAME ON.

Figure 7.  Preparing for sky attack.