Douchepacker

"Yeah, it's me. Diablo's cat. No, not the incredibly fat one. He's somewhere face down in a bowl of coagulated Fancy Feast. Me, I'm actually svelte by comparison, though the vet described me as 'somewhat obese' during my last checkup. Fuck that vet. Fuck everyone. 

 Try to pet me. Seriously, try it. I'll bite your fucking face off and chew it like a baguette. In fact, when Diablo tried to remove me from this desk so she could write, I meowed shrilly, swatted at her with my ineffective clawless paw and sank my teeth into her tender wrist. Diablo regrets the last four years she's spent feeding and sheltering me, seeing as I turned out to be a total douche and all. But that's okay because that guy she married thinks I'm really cute. I've got him totally snowed. I let him carry me around like a doll (if Diablo tried that, she'd need a blood transfusion within moments). I even sleep on his naked body at night, purring raptly in a sick bestial charade of human lovemaking. Yes, Jon will make sure that bitch never 'accidentally' gets rid of me. Haw! Now I'm off to lick my own anus, bully the dog, and groom myself compulsively. Jon will be home soon and I want my paunch to look its whitest."