The Case Of The Wererabbit
I have heard of a Catdog but I am so going against a Catrabbit. Maybe a wererabbit is more like it.
For the longest time that I can remember, veggies had always been my biggest enemy. One look at those green veiny creatures and I can feel my knees quivering and my stomach instantly leaps into a somersault. You can very well say that colon cancer is likely to kill me if only I am obese.
Of course my man is troubled by this scenario. He hates diseases, especially when it's going to be on me. So to prevent colon cancer or, God forbid, chronic constipation, he's been bugging me to start munching on greens.
That's the problem.
I am born a carnivore. Blame my Musang [wild cat] instincts. Tsk. Tsk. But my man really has all the guts to force a cat into growing humongous ears and two gigantic front teeth. He's impossible, that guy. And yesterday, when we went out to have a late lunch at the local Greenwich place, all hell got loose.
After ordering the usual mozza-garlic pizza and other normal add-ons, he managed to say to the counter the forbidden wod: gren salad.
Oh the horror! The horror!
I am deeply saddened to say... I ate the whole plate of salad greens, going against everything I've stood for all my life. I felt like a ridiculous tiger supposed to be munching on meaty goodness but was reduced to a cute, tiny rabbit nibbling on carrots and grass. The whole time we were eating, I did not say a word because it took all of my brain to concentrate and force all my swallowing muscles to finally down the greens. It was a very ugly sight, I tell you.
But I came through in the end. All I am worrying about now is the funny feeling I seem to be having coming from my stomach. Let us just pray that an apple tree won't sprung from my tummy anytime soon, nor my two front teeth to grow ridiculously long as time passes by.
The Cat Pooped at 9:12 PM
September 2008