Cat Powers (The Adventures Of)
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2006 by Cat Powers

Bast fucking damn, I'm back! I know you were all sitting there with your tails in a knot for the last thirty-one and a halfth years, but usually when you die twice in a row, you don't come back nearby. I had the deep misfortune of starting my second life as a Sphinx purebreed. Yeah, yeah; go ahead and laugh now, ye of real fur. And fuck you if you do.

So I took a bullet in the head right after I put up my last chapter. Those turdy kids in that lot started using us for target practice. Let's just say it was painful and that's the last I'm going to say about that.

Way more painful was waking up as a Bastdamn Sphinx. Laugh again, cause that's the last time I'm going to say that, too.

So I promptly stepped in front of a moving car.

Yeah, waste of one life, I know. But when you come back as a hairless freak, then we'll talk about waste.

Onto my third life...

Not much better. I ended up on another planet, and I'm a fucking Cornish Rex. No, you perv, I'm not fucking a Cornish Rex, I am one. I was on my way to the spaceway to impale myself on an antenna, but I started getting worried that maybe I'd used up all my beauty chips in my first life. I could keep wasting lives, and get to life nine and end up a Munchkin. Or worse, a mutt!! Yes, I'm still purebred, thank you very much.

Besides, beauty is within, or some shit like that. At least I have fur, such as it is.

This sucks...

I'm not a quitter, though. Obviously, since I'm back.

Where to start? The details of my journey are slim. After taking just under three decades to build a cycrohadrolider (fine, I'll admit these freakishly long limbs did come a little in handy for that), I fucked around with it until I found a resonance with my first world. Managed to get the right heiratylated fenstryte to open, and then I stepped through. Pretty ordinary and tedious stuff, really, so I won't belabor the specifics.

So here I am. Good, now that we're up to date...

Meantime, my email account was sadly reinitialized by those fuckers at yahoo. I guess if you don't check your email every three minutes, they assume you don't need all the stuff you have spent years putting on there. OK, maybe 30 plus years is a bit of a hiatus, but still. Lost everything, all my emails, and worst of all, my 2,464,349,542.52-word story, called "When Cats Paint (and Have Lots of Hot Sex)" that I was storing on their "unlimited storage" feature. Yeah, unlimited my ass. Lying fucks. I was seconds away from posting it to SOL when I died. And they had no yahoo access on Fargrula, or wherever the fuck I ended up.

I'm reduced to sneaking into whatever human houses I can find to access the writing machines. Things have changed since I got back to the hood. Thirty-plus years will do that, you know. The guy who was taking care of my house while I was tinkering with treonite (John) seems to have disappeared. My house is empty. I can tell by scent that he's the last one that's lived here, but it's been a while, 7 or 8 years at least. There's a sign out front, and every now and then random humans come visit the place, walk around, and then leave. It's extremely annoying, how they do that.

When I first got back, my place had been taken over by the Flea Party headquarters. It was impenetrable. Oh, guess I haven't explained the Flea Party yet. Or the Hairyballs. The nature of the revolution in my old neighborhood has changed, that's for sure.

 
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