PARISHITLER.BLOGSPOT.COM

I was so touched by the cats species shifting that I wanted to do something for them. If they were talented enough to write in cursive pee script in the snow I figured maybe they could type. The problem was the instrument they used to etch the snow was out of the question on the Mac. and even with bottle caps attached to their feet they didn't have the dexterity..."Now is the time for all goood jiowmtosi cjosplaj." See? Then I had an idea. I found an old softball, cut it in half like a grapefruit and scouped out the insides. It was then that Nicole disappeared. Paris looked at me as if to say "Fuck her. I'm interested."
"Lets see if this works." I said fitting the little helmet over Paris' head. I rigged a tiny chin strap and adjusted it so it was comfortable. How would this helmet help Paris type? Just wait. As Nicole ripped the head off a chipmunk out in the yard, I removed the leather helmet from the cat. Then I cut a small hole in the top and inserted an old car antenna. On the tip of the shaft I taped a fishing sinker, set up the Mac., put the helmet back on and went online.
Within an hour he was surfing cat toy sites and googling "nip". "Nicole?" I called, motioning to Paris clicking away. I couldn't compete with the eviscerated munk. She wasn't interested. Then I had an epiphany. What if Paris had her own blog?
I could check in with what was going on in their lives while I was on the road and it would give them something to do while I was gone. I set up the site under my name. Because Paris and Nicole had no pockets they didn't have credit cards so I wasn't worried they'd get in trouble financially. I showed Paris how to log on and sat back. She took to it like a duck to water. So from now on you can check the cat's blog also. I'm hoping Nicole will put on the helmet and post some of her thoughts also. I looked over Paris' shoulder as he worked his head stick across the keys. "THAT'S HOT!" he clicked. I can't tell you how proud I am of him.