Sunday Cards

Posted on July 14, 2019 by sungmokoo

Gin rummy is the second best thing to do between two people. The first being, a classic duel.

Arthur and Tina were playing gin rummy on a blistering hot lazy Sunday. A baseball game without sound was playing on the extremely large television. A time before central air conditioning must have been pure hell. Arthur’s hand cramped up, so he set down his cards. “Do you remember Morris the Cat?”

Tina pursed her lips as she laid down the Ace of Hearts. “Of course I do. It/he was the spokesperson/cat for 9 Lives® cat food and made his first appearance in 1968. Why?”

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The Legion Of Every Single Superhero

Posted on July 9, 2019 by sungmokoo

Camerawoman and the rest of the superheroes

Camerawoman and the rest of these superheroes were at the celebration. Source.

It was extravagant, bordering on excessive, but there would be no argument, it was much deserved. For the first time ever, the world experienced fifty straight days of peace thanks to the efforts of every single superhero. The acting leader, Party Girl was quick to suggest a celebration. Cautious Kid wanted to interject, but honorary superhero, Smokey Robinson, was first to blurt out as well as sing in that distinctive ultra tenor, “I second that motion, baby.”

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“Cat”aclysm

Posted on May 14, 2019 by sungmokoo

Gangs of kittens have successfully taken over retirement homes more times than you would think.

Out of his extraordinary peripheral vision, Simon Bagley, no relation to Jim, glimpsed a grey kitten peeking out of the shrubs. Upon closer inspection, he had discovered a litter of four and a half kittens (Maybe a third. It’s hard to tell without knowing the original mass.) They were mewling madly. Being a genuine “cat” person, he was terrified, for he knew the mother must be nearby and hell hath no fury like a mother cat.

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Sicko With No Intentions

Posted on February 24, 2018 by sungmokoo

Don’t lend cats money. Image Source

What sort of stupid name is that?” asked Astral Projection out loud, even though he was obviously alone. His face obscured by a failing newspaper, he continued to prattle. “What sort of name is Dingus? Dingus O’Hara? That can’t be right. It’s… it’s too moronic.” He put down the paper with the impact of disgust; his eyes darted across the dingy kitchenette following a trail of nothing to the garbage can, to where the cat used to eat. He suffered from a mild condition commonly known as cat vision flashback. It is the imaginary peripheral vision, an instinctive blur etched forever from owning and being conditioned by a cat.

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