member since: Aug 8, 2012
total forum posts: 0
last login: Aug 8, 2012
As you can see, I am a puffy cat. What more can be expressed in my tongue of Old Kitteth that is impoverished in expression by the puff of my fur?
My father is John the Third Puffy Cat, he of his dark main brought life to the city as an entertainer and engineer. Writer of the sublime, he pounces still mightily on the Sock Of Infinte Elation.
Before him purred John the Second. Singer and son of a cowboy's pet puffy cat, of which we know little but that which puffs through our sung word.
"Oh on the range of a cowboy's ride
A pet puffy kitty rode by his side
His name was John, so the master proclaimed
His gaze was true, his claws maintained"
John I, and John II were desert cats, braving infinite heats, but I like he who puffed before me have grown acclimated to the hills of landscapes green and flowing.
I eat sunshine and poop rainbows.