And I swear in this Moment, we were all Lesbian Cats

"…WAIT!" Augustus gesticulated lustily, his voice dripping with misogyny like the main character of Thelma and Louise might if she was a cat and also liked to do bad things to women named Daisy.

"NO AUGUSTUS I WILL JUMP NOW. I AM TOO SAD FOR TO BE LIVING!?" Lucy's body was silhouetted against the morning sun just like regular cats who were also silhouetted against the morning sun. Lucy slid seductively off the roof and hit the ground like a wet bag of concrete that had also been thrown off of a school's roof. It was quite shocking, much like the scene where we find out that Haley Joel Osment is dead in that movie where Bruce Willis can see dead people.

"Eh, fuck it," Augustus exploded, shrugging like some sort of person who is a cat who shrugs to speak who is also a sexual deviant and should die a horrible death (Remember this, this is the second most important after the lesbians.)

Jess was conveniently stalking Lucy at the time, getting a massive lady boner, much as hawks who are also stalking cats might do. After seeing her beloved fluid receptacle have sloppy make outs with the ground, a feeling of intense jealousy and lust filled her like that one time that Keanu Reeves was filled with emotion in that movie about singing poor people and newspapers. She quickly stammered over to the lumpy, moist mess that was once Lucy when she was totally not dead. Her lampshades of jealousy were replaced quickly by tables of wanting to do the horizontal monster mash with the crumbly cat corpse. Then she shrink-wrapped Lucy and stuffed her in the gas tank of her bitchin motorcycle. It was kind of like that movie directed by Peter Fonda… Ghost Rider, I think.

As Jess rode off into the sunset, her package in tow, she marinated to herself, "What ever shall I do with this most delectable of prizes?" She resolved to fully enjoy the little gift that had so easily and scrumptiously fell into her otherwise pathetic and upholstered existence. She brushed her sticky locks of hair from betwixt her dulcet eyes. The feline velocipede sat atop her enthused motorbike that rode, illuminated by the full moon, upon the road that was like Gary Busey's face… but a road.

When she was about halfway back to her house, she came upon a figure that permeated the air with his anti-Semitism. But it was totally not Hitler. It was the bad guy from Persona 2. Who is not Hitler. They said "Hey," with a knowing nod to one another and went their separate ways, much like two ships passing in the night who also went separate ways.

She soon came upon her disgusting hovel; a poor excuse for a real home. Her parents were either dead or missing in action because of the Grenadan invasion. As such, Jess had the home to herself and spent her days watching classics of cinema like "The Adventures of Pluto Nash" and the summer hit blockbuster "Blacula." But tonight, she was in for a treat far greater than the Oscar-winning acting talents of Eddie Murphy. She opened the door to the basement and the scent of old linoleum and fake potpourri wafted by. She inhaled deeply, releasing carbon dioxide into the air. She hefted Lucy up onto her shoulder like a sack of bricks if Lucy was a sack of bricks.

She decided that Lucy was too heavy to carry so she said "Fuck it all," and she tossed Lucy down the stairs. She knew that it was okay because LUCY WAS DEAD. Jess then pranced down the stairs, lightly tip-toing over the splayed body that was on the ground. She sighed and dragged the Labrador cat over to a bed that had prints of two clowns eating each other on it. She tossed the lifeless feline onto the bed with a Freudian POMF just as rigor mortis was setting in. Jess's eyes surveyed the alluring and labyrinthine scene in front of her. Noticing the rigor mortis, she commented dryly, "Well, at least I'm not the only one who is hard." A noticeable bulge had appeared at the front of Jess's satin overalls, sort of like David Bowie's massive protuberance in the movie "Dune."

Her pants imploded with the force of one thousand small children who had also imploded. She danced like a filthy stripper in a nursing home roller derby over to a boom box. She pressed the button labeled "Love-making music" and the soundtrack from "Parappa the Rapper" came on. The song "Pumpkin Hill" by Tupac but covered by the Onion Sensei came on and Jess shuddered with Turkish delight.

Suddenly, she felt super kawaii masou shoujo energy flowing inside of her. She became silhouetted in bishi sparkles and she posed like Hugo Chavez in heat, lusting after Che Guevara. When the blinding light faded, she stood there.

Lucy was still dead. Jess got on top of her, waving her throbbing Festivus pole in Lucy's face. It was similar to a pool cue in that it could be unscrewed in the middle and was covered in chalk.

"Prepare your anus, you fuzzy little man-peach," snarled Jess, but then she realized that LUCY WAS STILL DEAD so of course she could not hear her.