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5:52 p.m. - 2002-03-19
I like metaphors.
You ever pick up a cat and pet it and hold it and it is all cuddly and purring and loving until suddenly it has this burning need to get down? It flinches and extends it’s claws and you know, you just know that you are not going to be able to separate from this cat with out getting clawed.

“Just chill,” you tell it. “I’ll put you down!”

But it doesn’t listen. It has to get down now, and it, for some reason believes that the only way to accomplish this is to escape by force. So you try to clutch it and calm it, you pet it again and it seems to relax for a second—but then---DING!---nails extended, ready to tear grooves into skin.

You try to set it down without giving it a reason to rip you up, but it starts twisting and flexing and the closer it gets to the ground the more manic and focused on getting away it becomes.

Then you are left rubbing your wound and looking at the ass of it as it bounds away to whatever is so important.

 

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