News Flash Expose: Jet is teh gay!
Yes, you heard it here first, folks. From beyond the grave, Harley has turned Jet; so powerful was his gayness that even death could not stop it from doing its work. I have proof!
Here he is, mounting my poor little lickin' stick. Tommy is a bottom, it's true, but he's MY bottom, dammit!
Look at his eyes, glowing in the hopes that I will come and rescue him from prison sex with an orange freak. Sadly, I was deeply involved with my own butt at that time, so I could not intervene on his behalf.
This is the rear view, so you can see the butt action.
This has been a point of contention for a long time. Girl always said that Jet had such fierce (heh) hatred for Harley out of homophobia, because he was closeted and afraid that Harley's overt gayness would bring out his own. Boy denied it, of course. Such a masculine manly stud as him could never have raised a gay cat! Nooooo. Even though Jjjjjetttt had never seen another grown cat in his life before he moved into this den of iniquity... how could Jet have known the true nature of his own sexual orientation? Being thrust amongst the gayest cats in the known universe could have a transformative effect on an impressionable and slightly retarded but handsomely evil orange fellow. Thus, for once in her sad, pathetic life of wrongness, Girl actually got something right. That is one of the Seven Signs of the Apoopyclips. This is another one:
Yes, that's me, snuggling Shadow. It's hard to tell it's him because he looks like a black puddle of grease and not a cat, but it is him. If the internets were scratch and sniff, you'd be able to tell. Notice that I am putting my butt on him. Don't you think that's the best condolence I could offer him in his time of mourning? Now that he's a widower, he's been much more willing to worship my hawtness. Never let it be said that I am not magnanimous in accepting worship, despite the skeeviness of the source. I do still occasionally hiss at him and smash him in the face with my perfectly white paw, just to keep him on his little black toes.
At first, I was forlorn at what happened to my Baby Tom. My poor, innocent lickin' stick! How could you, Jjjjettt! I lay in the place where the violation was committed, alone, disgusted, feeling ill and not knowing what to do. The gulf between me and my loved ones was huge and alienating:
Even Ugly Doll offered no solace. I did not have the strength to reach across the gray, unmopped, filth-covered void that is Girl's dining room floor to grasp her redolent, nappy hideousness in my fragrant maw. But then she spoke to me and said, "Dolphie, do what you do best":
Lick lick lick lick lick lick!
All better! He's barely even traumatized anymore. And he's definitely not going to catch teh gay either.
All your butts are belong to us,
Dolphie Current Mood: nauseatedCurrent Music: When you're a Jjjjettt you're a gay all the way...