Chapter 4

Inconsiderate John stopped leaving his computer on at night for a while there. And he was hogging it, working on his own 'stories.' If you can call them that...

Humans...

Well, I finally have the evening to let you know what's been happening.

Someone wrote and said I'm being all bitchy and shit, skewering people's emails in public. I thought about it long and hard for a moment, and maybe eating the whole catnip plant with Satch was a little much. Other than that, no regrets. If you write helpful or nice emails, then Bast bless you. If you write stoopid emails, then expect to be featured in what is fast becoming the most popular portion of our program. MY program, sorry.

John (the guy who I let live in my house) is feeling better after his cactus episode. He's back to writing like I said (and whatever else he does under that keyboard). He's also back to pulling weeds, although he's wearing two long-sleeve sweatshirts when he works near the cactus beds. What an idiot! Like that's going to keep cactus thorns from going through. And it's brutally hot right now! At least it's entertaining, if pathetic.

Oh yeah. His mother came to visit from out of town. I now know where he gets his smarts from. The three of us are walking out in the garden, and she goes up to a cactus and touches one. Then she jumps back in surprised pain, her finger full of little needles.

"Ouch!! Wow, they really do prick!"

Duh. I had to go to the alley before I died of laughter. They were still picking them out when I went back inside a while later.

So people keep emailing about the lack of sex in the story. They keep whining like little #@&$ that this is an erotic story site, and the stories should have sex in them. The first forty-three of those emails went straight to the trash. Then the fourty-fourth one gave me pause. Just because that's my birthday, see.

So I thought for a long, hard and pulsing moment, and I was like, nah. I'm not a crowd pleaser. I'm true to my values.

But then! But then...

By the bad grace of Artemis, all you wankers got lucky. By complete coincidence — coughandauthorlibertycough — a situation presented itself to me this morning. So now, I don't have to just insert a token sex scene, I can insert a real hot one! And it's even related - coughhowevermarginallycough - to the real story at hand. Which I am having trouble remembering at this point.

Oh right, the kids in the alley. More on them later. Here's the ballad of Laula and... well, you'll see.

Some background first.

By complete coincidence, every day this man and woman run in our alley. And by complete coincidence, they always pass each other right behind my house. Satch and I always are sitting on the wall watching. They're always like "Hi!" "Hi!" very shyly, and then they move on. Fine, who gives a shit. Human love. If they were cats they would have screwed a hundred times by now.

So this morning was no different. There we were, Satch and I, shooting the turd, when they approach from their usual directions. Except this morning, they stop a few cat lengths away from each other. Right in front of us.

"Hey baby whassuuuuuuup!" he said.

"Nothing, just chilling."

"What's your name, baby?"

"Laula. Yours?"

"Krulaka the Eight and a halfth (but that's nto my Real name)," he said.

(No relation to our email friend.)

"You know, Krulaka the Eight and a halfth (but that's nto my Real name), I've always wanted to fuck in these here weeds!"

"Me too, baby! That's so my fantasy!"

OK, OK, so now you probably are saying, wait a fucking minute. That's totally bullshit.

And I agree. Those are not weeds! That's been the comfortable bed (and love nest) of many an alley cat. But remember: they're humans, they really did say this...

So they strip right then and there. Now the salacious details:

Laula dragged her long silky tongue up Krulaka the Eight and a halfth (but that's nto my Real name)'s steel-hard and pulsing cock. Meanwhile he plunged his middle digit profoundly into her cervix, breaching her virgin hymen with a spurt of ruddy blood.

He licked her virginal juice off his finger as she moaned into his malleable ball sack.

Slowly she devoured his telephone pole, bit by agonizing bit. His girth was like the oldest and rarest of trees, and his precum tasted like the oldest and rarest of, um... moonlit-illuminated monsoon-filled washes.