Now I’ve finally got rid of that old guy, so that’s one down. It shouldn’t be too hard to take out the old bat*, or that whiny middle management type.** The real challenge will be His protegée***—He gets out the squirt bottle if I so much as look in her direction. Even She squirts me if I attack that one, and I have Her pretty well under my paw. She’ll soon forget about that old guy. I’m much younger, stronger, more fit, better dressed—a full Cleveland with an orange jacket? Puh-leeze! Solid black is always correct for every occasion. And I have much better teeth (here, check them out; see, doesn’t that hurt?). Chicks love me! I’m the Man! Anyway, if I sit in Her lap and groom Her hands a lot, She’ll mellow out and start letting me out more. (She did say I was only grounded for the rest of the old guy’s life, right, so I should be fine, now.) And then I can further my plans for world domination, starting with this household. Of course, I’ll have to do something about Neighbor Catboy, too. I am the Only Basement Cat around here. Maybe I’ll deal with that guy before I take on His protegée. I don’t like Neighbor Catgirl, either, but she can live if she never gets up on my windowsill again.

*The Shakespearian Heroine.
**The Grammarian.
***The Tiny Cat.

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