Sorry I Barfed on Your Bed
Page 2
Love,
Didjeradoo
Name: Fuzzy Wuzzy
Age: 2 Years
Re: Welcome to the kitty ornithological society
Dear Fellow Bird-Watcher,
I’m so happy you’ve decided to join me for some bird hunt—er, um, watching. I have a great appetite appreciation for birds. Do you see that beautiful red-headed thing? Well, according to the copy of Bird Watcher’s Digest (the leading authority on which birdies you should digest), that is called a house finch! You might not recognize it with its head still attached. But that’s what they look like before they’ve been decapitated, gift wrapped, and left on your doorstep. And that over there is a sparrow. You might know it from its common name, “mysterious pile of feathers on the back porch.”
Hey, why do you have a jingly collar in your hand? Can’t you see I’m trying to get close to nature?
Love but with annoyed tail flickers,
Fuzzy Wuzzy
Name: Coco
Age: 14 Years
Re: It’s a black cat thing; you wouldn’t understand
Dear Bewitched Bed Warmer,
Why is it that every time your mom visits, you vacuum up my shed fur and then lock me in the bathroom? Are you embarrassed to be with me? You know, one day she’s just going to have to accept that you’re with a black cat. It’s the twenty-first century, and she still thinks I’m a witch. If I’m a witch, then why do I run from the broom? Whenever I cross her path, she runs in the opposite direction. All I want to do is rub myself against her legs. Every time I try to show that woman affection, she just sneezes and acts like she’ll die if we’re in the same room.
I don’t completely blame your mom. You never see positive portrayals of black cats on TV. Orange cats are used to sell cat food. And when an orange cat steals lasagna, it’s sweet and funny. Orange cats are cute little guys who wear boots. But black cats? We’re always demons and witches! That’s some racist BS.
Love,
Coco
Name: Moka
Age: 11 Years
Re: Claw-strophobia
Dear Real Estate Agent,
My previous residence was a laundry basket. But it was lost in Hurricane Cleaning Lady. This box is cozy, though. Is this front window custom? I always wanted a nice view of people I could scratch if they got too close. And you say the previous owner was a microwave oven? I hope it didn’t have any pets.
My housing needs are very particular. You see, I have a condition in which I’m deathly afraid of not being in small, confined places. I just can’t handle the fear that when I’m not tucked into a tight space, the rocking chair might bite my tail again, or the little human who wears a litter box around his butt will chase me.
This place is perfect. I’ll take it! Just tell me where to put my John Hancat. You can even close the lid right now if you want—I don’t mind being a shut-in.
Love,
Moka
Name: Kitten
Age: 10 Months
Re: I never wanted you to see me like this
Dear Baby-Honey-Sweetheart,
Look, love of my nine lives. Hold on. It’s not what it seems. I was just gonna pet it. That’s why my paw is out. Don’t look shocked. I’m not some violent predatory animal. My instinctual desire to smash this bug into goop was the old me. It was the kitten I was before I met you. You changed me. I’m still the same lovable guy you squeeze too tightly when you read romance novels. Do you remember our first date? You held me and I purred, and I licked your toes after you “accidentally” stepped in marinara sauce. That’s who I am, babe. Kill this bug? No way. If you really want to know, he was a present for you. I was going to bring him to your front door and ask if we could adopt what was left of him.
You know I love you, baby,
Kitten
Name: Snow
Age: 5 Weeks
Re: Chat room? I think you meant “cat room”
Dear Attention Giver,
I’m a very concerned little kitty. I’ve jumped onto your computer five times in the past twenty minutes, graciously offering to let you scratch my head. Yet every time, you push me off. What could possibly be more interesting than petting me until I inexplicably tire of you, swat your hand, and then run away? What were you about to do? Go onto a social network, maybe a chat room? Don’t you know that people get adorable kitties like me so they don’t have to have social lives? How can our relationship blossom if you try to develop normal human relationships?
And who is that whisker-faced trollop on your screen? What does she have that I don’t? Why don’t you stop fantasizing about some cat who doesn’t even know you exist, and give me a head scratch. Pleeeease. You feed me, so I care about you a lot. I know that some cats are aloof. But I’m not one to play hard to pet.
Love,
Snow
Name: Tussi
Age: 6 Years
Re: You didn’t tell me you have humans . . . I’m allergic to humans
Dear Nasal Irritant,
As you know, I’m not just a kitty cat. I am an alien from a distant planet sent to Earth to study the effects of sleeping on heating vents. But my work has been disrupted by a series of uncontrollable cat sneezes. And you know what, human? Laughing at me is not helping. You probably think that with all the hair kitties shed, and all the allergy attacks we cause, it serves us right to occasionally have adorable little sneezing fits. But did you know that cat sneezes can actually be the sign of a bacterial infection? That would make sense, since I live with you, and I have never once seen you lick yourself clean. Or the sneezes might be from accidentally getting litter dust up my nose. But I haven’t done that since I was a roadie for Faster Pussycat. Plus, I typically poop in the neighbor’s vegetable garden.
No, the reason I am sneezing is because you’re wearing too much of that new Kim Kardashian perfume. If you wanted to smell like a feral cat, you should’ve just asked. I would’ve been more than happy to spray you myself.
Love,
Tussi
Name: Squishie
Age: 4 Years
Re: Signs that a kitty might have an anger management problem
Dear Enabler,
Maybe I do have anger issues. I admit, I can’t stop after shredding one square. I go until the roll’s completely ripped. If you tried to separate me from the toilet paper, I’d scratch you. I’m hurting the ones I love.
I’ve been a shred-head for as long as I can remember—and my mommy was also known to be found on the bathroom floor, covered in two-ply. Do you think I should enter a twelve-step program? I’d probably just sit under the steps and swat at people as they walked up.
But you keep putting out fresh rolls, enabling my problem. Please keep the toilet paper in a drawer and out of my sight. Once I see the white stuff I go crazy.
However, maybe I should hide the toilet paper from you. What I do to it isn’t nearly as bad as what you do.
One day at a time,
Squishie
Name: Sugar
Age: 3 Years
Re: Why can’t you love me for who I am?
Dear Master,
I should’ve known this day would come. Last night when you were petting me, you said, “Who’s a good kitty?” That’s how you talk to a dog! Cats don’t care if they’re good. You clearly want someone who is in constant need of approval. Why don’t you just get a dumb doggie, if you want one so much. I’m sure you can find some idiot pooch who will balance food on his nose, or go crazy when you say the word jogging. I’m sorry you can’t go jogging with a kitty. But have you ever thought that with me you don’t need to jog—I’m happy ignoring you just the way you are.
Love,
Sugar
Name: Biscuit
Age: 1 Year
Re: Bartender, what do you have on tap?
Dear Bartender,
I heard the water running and decided to drop in to the sink for happy hour. Yes, I will have a drink, thank you. Whatever you have on tap is fine. When I was a young kitten and didn’t know any better, I would drink from my water bowl. It’s all I could get my paws on (which made quite a mess). But it’s so stale tasting compared to a sip right from the source. Plus, once in a while when I go to the water dish, there’s another cat in the bowl who stares at me. And he’s very protective of his water, because the closer I get, the closer he gets. He’s fast, too, because when I swat at him he immediately disappears.
But I like what you did with this place. I think this used to be a bathtub, right? That place sucked. I’m glad they pulled the plug on that joint.
Oh what, closing time already? That’s fine. I know the bathroom faucet will open for after-dinner drinks.
Love,
Biscuit
Name: Tasha
Age: 1 Year
Re: I’m glad my short-term memory problems amuse you
Dear Cat Startler,
What is it? Do I have something on my face? Why are you laughing? I was going to do something, but now I can’t remember what it was. Don’t you hate that? Since I am a cat, and I’m not asleep, I was probably licking myself and forgot to put my tongue back in my face. Is that why you’re laughing at me? You know, if you spent a third of your life grooming, you, too, would occasionally forget to pull your tongue back in. And imagine the look on your face if someone walked in on you licking yourself. Your tongue would be the last thing you’d think about putting away. And you would certainly hope they didn’t have a camera.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to wash behind my tail—and I don’t think you want a picture of that.
Love,
Tasha
Name: Calvin
Age: 2 Years
Re: I am King Calvin, but you may call me Lord John
Dear Subjects to the Throne of Calvin,
It is an honor to be your king. And let me say that I was not born as your furry highness, eye level to the toilet paper roll, surveyor of all sinks that drip. I was once a common box user. I know what it’s like to toil and bury, to go to sleep with clay under my claws. But no more am I banished to a stinky corner of the garage! I have risen up, and in so doing released my subjects from the feudal tyranny of scooping clumps. To celebrate, we will have games. Subjects, fetch me your finest string!
Love,
King Calvin the 1st and 2nd
Name: Marko
Age: 2 Months
Re: Let this be a warning to your toes
Dear Bringer of Pests,
You see this dead mousy? This is what happens when you cross Marko’s floor without saying, “Hi, Marko kitty,” and scratching my head. I know you might be tempted to remove the body, but don’t! Another mousy looking and smelling exactly like him will just show up tomorrow, and I’ll have to kill him all over again. I don’t know how the exact same mousy keeps reappearing, but I’m a busy kitty, and I have socks to chew through and tinfoil balls to knock under the couch. I can’t spend every day killing a mousy I could swear I already killed. So please, leave it out to remind the mouse that he is actually dead, and I’m bored with him.
Love,
Marko the Magnificent
Huge thanks to the extremely talented photographers who blessed this book with their work:
Carter Belleau, Moka; Elizabeth Blake, Isaac; Catherine Chanel, Coco; CitiKitty Pet Products, Calvin; David Clemmons (spacemouses), Kitten; Betsy Cole, Muffin, and Cherry; Dave DeHetre, Marko; Joan De Lurio, Didjeradoo; Sandy Ellis, Bubba; Fearon-Wood Photography, Fuzzy Wuzzy; Carolyn Ganus, Biscuit; Linda M. Goodman, Daisy; William H. Haas, Jillian; Staffan Hamnas, Tussi; Jason Hitchens, Maggie; Andrey Hristov, Charlie; Marjorie Lear, Macho; Loriann Morris, Squishie; Leta Paine, Tippy; Jodi Payne, Tasha; Edward H. Pien, Mia; Niklas Pivic, Blixa, Tiramisu, and Zabaglione, and Hendrix; Paula Rivas, Loli and the Teddy Bears; Peder Sandholm, Ili; Jaret Segovia, Dakota; Jixue Yang, Snow; Jia Zhang, Sugar.
Sorry I Barfed on Your Bed copyright © 2013 by Jeremy Greenberg. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.
Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC
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ISBN: 978-1-4494-3211-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012948869
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Jeremy Greenberg is an internationally headlining stand-up comedian, author, blogger, and joke writer. He has appeared on numerous national TV and radio shows, and has done six overseas tours to perform for our troops. Jeremy has also been a contributing joke writer for The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes and Comics Unleashed with Byron Allen. And if that weren’t enough, he’s also the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide, Sorry I Peed on You (and Other Heartwarming Letters to Mommy), Sorry I Pooped in Your Shoe (and Other Heartwarming Letters from Doggie), and Manwords: Real Words for Real Men. Additionally, he is read by millions each day as the blogger for MSN’s The Family Room, and was part of the team that helped MSN win the 2009 IMA Outstanding Achievement Award for the category of “blogs.” When Jeremy is not performing or writing, he is at home in San Diego demonstrating alpha-male behavior to his twin sons—mostly by saying “Whatever” and leaving the room every time his wife says that he’s incorrectly loaded the dishwasher. Learn more at www.sorryibarfedonyourbed.com.