AN: Believe it or not, I actually attempted to write some of this in Algebra. I got about a page written but had to stop because the person next to me was reading what I had written over my shoulder with a look of shock on their face. Let me tell you, they now must think that I am some insane maniac because I was in the mind of Fat Louie. of course. So because of this incident, I ask you, people of this planet, to please not read what the person next to you is writing whether it be a note, the rest of their science essay, or the ponderings of a slightly mental housecat. I know it's tempting but you probably don't even want to know and everyone on the planet finds it annoying. Just thought I needed to share. ;)

I also give you my apologizes for the lateness for this chapter. School sucks. Thank you for your time.

Monday, July 21st

4:23 PM

Doctors know nothing. They think they do (I quite personally believe it has something to do with their giant syringes, they're like an emblem of power over disease and the suffering of those who get stuck with them) but I'm sure you're already aware of this fact. Take Dr. Phil for example, who is constantly preaching about how to achieve weight loss. It does make you wonder if he's looked in the mirror lately considering he could do with shedding a few pounds himself. Speaking of Dr. Phil, I've also always wondered if he's ever looked into anger management because I believe it would do him some good, for the man is constantly yelling at the poor souls who come to receive his guidance from all around the country (or were brought before him unsuspectingly by their mothers).

Anyway, this fact of doctors' level of knowledge especially applies to the MAN OF EVIL, JONATHON BRIGGS!

Of course you aren't surprised by this fact, because it's world-renowned, but Dr. Briggs has surpassed his level of idiocy, which I believed impossible along with all other felines in the area. But believe it or not, Dr. Briggs has become even dumber. Why is this, you ask?

Because he thinks I have hostility issues and am depressed because I have no feline acquaintances to ... acquaint with.

HA! HAHAHAHA! I LAUGH at this ridiculous notion!

Little does he know that I am an acclaimed social butterfly ... well ... kind ... of ... sort of ... ummm...

Okay, so I don't have a best friend (EXCEPT MIA) and, okay, I don't really have any friends (EXCEPT MIA AND HELEN) but as for friends that are the same species I have approximately zero. BUT WHO SAYS THIS MEANS I'M DEPRESSED! I'M A FRIGGING CAT FOR GOD'S SAKE! HOW THE HELL CAN SOMEONE PHSYCOANALYZE CATS!

Because I'd just really like to know.

You can infer what you wish about the aggressiveness part of the psychoanalysis.

But I'll have you know that I don't think I'm the least bit hostile. At all. Not in the least. It's a fallacious suggestion from the start.

Well ... okay ... perhaps I could be considered just a little aggressive...

Oh, come on, that one time when I attempted to scratch all of the skin off of Mr. Gianini's legs doesn't count. He had been much too close to Helen. MUCH TOO CLOSE. I thought he was trying to cut off all air to her lungs!

...But apparently that wasn't the case. I didn't know that his apparent attempt to suffocate her was called making out. It was an honest mistake, really. Anyone could have made it.

Or ... not.

But I'm still not depressed and/or overly aggressive. So HUMPH.

Damn doctors and disgusting human beings with their gross and potentially life-threatening showings of affection.