Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The 2016 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

Narrated in Morgan Freeman's voice by Quincy
Interjections of frequent harassment by Igor and Yeti
Written in Santa's warm Christmas blood by the cats; Moby, Poe, Fathead, Lily, Petunia, Beepers, Mama, Splave and Shocky


We've decided that each one of us are going to share with you a little bit of what we are thankful for this holiday season, and maybe offer you a Christmas list of crap we want you to buy us. We're not proud. The asshole cats will go first. Why? Well, they won the Yeti toss. I wanted to call HEADS because Yeti has such a big fat skull but nooo...Igor wanted tails. Why do I listen to him? Damn half-breed chug.

Igor the Damn Half Breed Chug


Shocky: What I am thankful for this holiday season is our Savior, the Man with the Plan. President elect, Donald Trump! He's gonna build a wall with his tiny- yet ever so soft hands.

Shocky- Republican



Igor: *sigh* And where will this wall go?


Shocky: Don't you follow political religion? The wall goes all the way to Mexico which is the gateway to hell. That's what Beepers says.


Quincy: Beepers also thinks Satan lives in her sphincter and every time she craps she's birthing shit demons. That's why she won't bury her poop. She's doesn't want them to have to fight their way up from the litter to conquer the world. Stop listening to that crazy-ass cat!
Voice of Reason



Splave: I am thankful for the food bringers. I just wish they would wear gloves when they prepare my food. I know where their disgusting hands have been. And to top it off, they attempt to touch ME with their filthy fingers. But they don't realize their touch is like acid! And it burns, it BURNS!! I need Santa to bring some antibacterial soap.
Splave- Reaching for the Anti-Bacterial Soap


Igor: Maybe Santa has a sack full of therapy for ya, Splave.


Petunia: Psst...wanna know what I'm thankful for this holiday season? Meet me down stairs next to the fresh pile of puke next to the washer. Don't make eye contact with anyone.


Yeti: Quincy, Petunia is selling drugs again down by the puke pile.


Yeti- the Snitch



Petunia: Snitch!!!

Quincy: Shut up you two, we're doing a nice Christmas letter here! Mama, you're up...


Mama: What I'm thankful for this holiday season are the lights. They are sooo pretty. And for sparkly brown crayons and balls of ham.
Mama- Dreaming of Holiday Ham Balls



Quincy: (Shaking his furry head) I'm glad she's got looks because she be stoo-ped.


Beepers: Not thankful. Must...kill....everyone....
Beepers- Homicidal

Quincy: Goddamn it Beepers. You forgot to take your medicine again, didn't you?  Next!


Lily: What I am thankful for this holiday season is the huge hooded litter box smack dab in the living room! Mom was sick of me pooping and peeing on the dog's pee pads on the living room floor and me rolling them in a ball when I'm done- and because I roll them in a ball I fling turds all over the carpet. In my defense, Petunia and Beepers, who RULE the basement are PSYCHO. Every time I go down there to use one of the 6 litter boxes, those bitches are always harassing me. Beepers ambushes me with a turkey baster as soon as I plant my ass in the box and Petunia attempts to sell me catnip, balls of ham and heroin. I can't even take a shit in peace. I'm sick of it. Dammit, I can't be her only client.
Lily- Her Eyes 'All-Aglow' While Staring at her Private Litter Box.


Fathead: What I'm thankful for is not having died from THE AIDS.
Doesn't have "the Aids"

Igor: Fatty, you don't have THE AIDS, you have a just have an issue with your white blood cells. Nothing more. You're on meds. You're fine.


Fathead: Who made you a doctor? And, worse yet, I think I found blood in my stool.


Quincy:  You ate a can of red beets, dumbass.


Fathead:  Should I ask Santa for a prescription for Percocets and an anal thermometer for Christmas?


Petunia: Psst..Fatface....meet me in the basement at the 3rd litter box in 20 minutes. Bring cash.
Petunia- Drug Lord



Quincy: Oh my god... Petunia get your dealing ass back in the cellar. Poe you're up next.


Poe:  I'm glad that I am an only fur-kid here with mom and dad!


Quincy: Umm..wait a minute dude. There are 9 of you goddamn cats and 3 of us pups in this house.

Poe: Oh yeah. Sure, sure. Hey, ah...you think Santa would bring me some heavy duty garbage bags, a hacksaw and a woodchipper?

Poe-Asking for a Wood Chipper this Christmas


Quincy: Jesus Poe, No! You're getting as bad as Beepers.

Poe: Fine. *grumbling in some stupid cat language to himself.* I guess I don't need the garbage bags....

Moby: I'd like to be thankful, I really would, but 2016 was one shitty year. I lost my job at the factory and my wife of 36 years left me for this stray Angora with a man-bun. 32 of my 40 children are hooked on drugs; thanks Petunia. And the vet just diagnosed me with chronic yarn-in-the-ass syndrome from, get this, eating yarn! Now, how the hell is that's MY fault?

Igor:  Moby, you are so full of shit...and yarn. You're a cat, none of the above has happened.

Moby: It could have...
Moby- None too Happy from Contracting 'Yarn-Ass'



Quincy: God help me. Yeti, you're up...

Yeti: I'm thankful for the bed in mom and dad's room. It's so soft and cozy. I get so excited while digging a hole in the comforter; for what reason...I don't know. And once I spin around 20-30 times in the fluffy blankets it takes no time before I just...just...ZZZZZZZZZ.

Igor: The little bugger has turned narcoleptic. Yo, dumbass. Wake up!


Yeti: What...what happened? Did I fall asleep again while talking about being all snuggled up in mom and dad's beee...ZZZZZZ.


Quincy: Let him sleep. He adds nothing to this Christmas letter anyway. What about you Igor? What are you thankful for this holiday season?


Igor:  I'm thankful for the same crap as always- you know; a warm home and good food. It's nice to know that mom and dad let us get in touch with our roots and encourage us to be WILD dogs, occasionally letting us hunt for our food. In our neighborhood, there are a lot of prey to let loose on.  We ate the dickhead neighbors last month. They were way behind on their rent and their kids were fat little bastards who shouldn't have been in the gene pool anyway. We did the landlord and society a favor. Man, that George Foreman grill really comes in handy. It drains off all the Dorito and Mountain Dew flavored fat and leaves only the clean taste of buttery shrimp ass and tears. Oh and I'm also thankful for the ability to lick my ghost nuts. I'm psyched that I'm still limber.


Quincy: Dammit, you took what I was thankful for!


Igor: Heh, heh, heh...


Quincy: You're such a dick, Igor. Well, I'm ALSO thankful for another Christmas letter in the books. This 'being thankful' shit is exhausting. So Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Great Balls of Kwanza and may 2017 not suck as much as 2016.


Merry What-the-fuck-Ever!!!!





















Thursday, December 1, 2016

Black Friday Bitches

So I went Black Friday shopping and stopped at Victoria's Secret. Why? Well, I had to pick up a few things....for a friend.

Honestly, I hate going into that store. The "Bra Specialists" stalk you with talk of finding your perfect fit. Okay, number one, what schooling do you need to become a "Bra Specialist?" Is it a four year program? Can one eventually get their Masters in Tittology? All I can say is...bitch better have some sort of degree. And TWO, there is no damn thing as a 'perfect fit.' It's a goddamn bra! Bra's suck.


Plus, the staff hovers. Come on! My head is the same size as my boobs. So when I try the bras on my noggin in the middle of store, I don't really need a "specialist" looming over me, treating me like I'm some sort of sped. Shut up. It works for me and that's all that matters.


Red makes me feel sexy!


While slogging thru the deep throng of whiny bitches, I happened across a door busters sign on gutichies that were pretty damn nice. And apparently every other cheap gutchie loving bitch did too. The estrogen and Vickie's odoriferous perfume line were so thick I couldn't even get near the display.


Luckily, since I had my thinking-cap on  *see above photo* I scurried out of the store and purchased a small cup of pretzel bites from Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Now, I'll admit, I was a bit hungry but I had other plans for those greasy little nuggets.


After munching on a few of them, I snuck the cup back into the store- in my purse- which is perpetually open because I'm too lazy to snap it shut.


I pushed my way through scary mother/daughter panty shoppers, twelve-year-old baby hookers in training and grandmas with fantastic body image to the round display of panties. Unfortunately for me, there were hands everywhere. Every time I'd grab for a sliver of silky fabric, another hand would pluck it from under my fingertips.

It was time to bring out the big guns or in this case, the bite sized guns. Acting as though I was picking something off the floor, I tiltled my purse so the pretzels precariously perched in my purse bounced and rolled all over the carpet.

The sight of those rogue pretzels co-mingling on the floor with all the lint, glitter and body dysmorphia birthed fear in those women's eyes. But there was one chick who pointed a manicured nail at the doughy buggers and really chummed the panty-lined waters. In a thin, cartoonesque voice she screamed, "CARBS," causing the horde of gutchie glomming females to dart in all directions while leaving me to the unfettered and attainable spoils.

Bwahahahahaha!

My Black Friday experience suddenly became...delightful!

I chose my cheap-ass panties in peace. Isn't that what the day after gorging yourself with great quantities of food is all about; peace and love and new panties?

Say what you want about my tactics but honestly, it was all Auntie Anne's doing. She's the real bitch here.


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