Pain in the Ass Man Versus the Gray Fuzzy Evilness!

It started out mildly enough.  Pain in the Ass Man, also known as HIM, the man to whom I'm married for a long time, stumbled out of bed.  The alarm went off at the ungodly hour of 5:15 a.m. and everyone knew about it.  I stayed in bed.  Cressy stayed in bed.  We knew it was ungodly.  Un-gawd-ly!

However, evilness was lurking about in the form of the Gray Fuzzy Megabeast.

The Gray Fuzzy Megabeast lurked lurkily about under the bed, waiting for his opportunity to take down...Pain in the Ass Man.  (Obviously, super villains are usually lurking lurkily about in their dens of inequity but under the bed was readily available.)

So as Pain in the Ass Man stumbled down the hall toward the kitchen, The Gray Fuzzy Megabeast realized that 1) he was going to get fed, and 2) Pain in the Ass Man had inadvertently revealed his Achilles heel or his kryptonite.  Pain in the Ass Man was powerless until he had received his allotted caffeine sustenance.

It was looking grim for Pain in the Ass Man.

Pain in the Ass Man silently debated.  Turn on the coffee machine OR feed the cat.  Hmm.  It was an epic decision and one that would cost him.

The Gray Fuzzy Megabeast said:

Pain in the Ass Man folded like a cheap suit.  He went toward the pantry to get a fresh can of cat food.  (Because HIM couldn't look in the refrigerator to see if there was one that was open already.  So if HIM had common sense this wouldn't have happened to him.)

The Gray Fuzzy Megabeast saw his opportunity.  Apparently, he'd been listening to the cats outside whisper things about insurance policies and such.

It was the Gray Fuzzy Megabeast VERSUS Pain in the Ass Man!

The Gray Fuzzy Megabeast employed the duck and weave technique as Pain in the Ass Man was reaching for the fresh can of cat food.  (Which I already reminded EVERYONE wouldn't have happened if HIM had checked in the fridge first, but who am I to rub things in?)

And HIM was falling!

Falling!  Falling!  Falling!

In the bedroom I heard a very loud thump, groan, and mutter.

When I got to the kitchen, it was like this:

And that's the story of how the cat tried to murder HIM.  HIM came away with bruises and scrapes, a nice shiner and let's not forget the lovely bloody hemorrhage in his eye which makes him appear as though he had a very bad laser surgery.

The moral of the story: Check the refrigerator first for opened cans.