From: ogre@hellshalfacre.org (Ogre Stormbringer)
Newsgroups: soc.singles.moderated
Subject: early morning chat with God
Date: 21 Jul 2003 16:22:51 -0400
Organization: Old Jack's Subjugated Plain Bar and Grill


Late Saturday, early Sunday morning.  I'd just come home with a
new friend who wanted to "see the apartment" (nudgenudge,
saynomore).  I ducked into the bathroom to stash something under
the sink, and noticed a bit of chewed-up stuff on the rug.
"Cat's been munching on something," I thought, then noticed the
razor blades.  "Shit."  Look over at the Beast, and sure enough
there are lacerations on his face.  'How'd he get to the razor
blades?' I didn't wonder, "Is the 24-hour emergency vet place
still there?" I did.

So I grabbed the first phone book that came to hand and tried to
look up "emergency vet service", but didn't find anything.
"Dammit," I said as I threw the book across the room.  Began my
rant on "why does a town this size need two freaking phone books
that have all the same numbers except the ones you need?" for my
new friend as I dug out the second phone book.  No better in this
one, worse even as I couldn't flip to the "V"s to get "Vet".
"S", "T", "U", sure, but then I'd be in the "S"s for Georgetown.

So by now I'm getting pretty panicked.  My cat's bleeding to
death internally and I can't even search a damned phone book.  I
stop thinking and start the desperate praying - "Oh God, I don't
want my cat to die!"

And God answered: "Then wake up and don't let him eat razor blades."


Ogre, the Beast was just annoyed that I woke him up, too