Pantsing Duncan

So as the latest round of kittyblogging proceeds down its predictably cutesy path, and the kittyblog fans settle back into a presumptuous air of unquenchable smugness, I have pressing and urgent questions. First: When is that lousy Dwarf umm, my very good friend, going to invite me over? Second: Why is that lousy Dwarf umm, my very good friend, suddenly obsessed with cat grooming? Third: why is Zoom so confident that Duncan can take me out? Fourth: what's all this euphemistic crap about his underpants? Fifth: There is no fifth thing.

I believe these issues to be not unrelated. (You're welcome, double negative fans...) Here's what I'm thinkin': Zoom seems a teensy bit overconfident about Mr Donut's ability to take me, in an altercation that assuredly will have no connection at all with the Marquis of Queensberry.

This is because she knows he's got brass knuckles concealed somewhere in that mountainous hairball he wears. Without 'em, he's lunch. Or at least mini-donuts.

Now, I've never seen any fur bearing creature wear underpants in my life, so I'm guessing this is some kind of cute kittyblogger euphemism for really major shedding. And I bet the Short Guy hasn't gone on his unprecedented furline hygiene kick for nothing. It's Spring. Cat's gonna shed all over his cave. The more seriously pantsed Duncan becomes, the fewer illicit utensils he can hide. I also welcome the Dwarf's timely action to clip Mr. Donut's usual weapons. Although I have to say I've become a little disturbed by the Mini-Me direction the whole relationship is taking, and feel a timely intervention is due. By a good friend.

It'd be sooo cool if Shorty'd just invite me over for tea and crunchies. I've dropped hints, I keep checking my answering service and inbox, but so far nuthin'. What's with that?