Does kistin-human ever make sense?

Quote by kistinspencil

Living in self-imposed isolation most of my life, I early on took to writing stories to entertain myself, a sort of creative counterpoint and companion to my photography. When I was going through a bit of darkness, a therapist I was seeing read a few pieces and suggested joining an online site as an aid to overcoming my fear of social interaction. Lush was not one of her recommendations, but it is where I ended up feeling comfortable. What progress I've made remains an open question. I still write everyday, but don't publish much anymore.

You such a liar! Everyone knows I write "your" stories! pffffffft

Quote by KimmiBeGood

You are soooo funny, Bear.

Miss Pixel, I need you, please... 😈

Same as last time? I just had my nails sharpened, so I'm good to go.

No one "has" me.

I have a human who is still not entirely trained.

Quote by KimmiBeGood

Ugh. Just got a '1' on my comp piece. 😕 Usually votes don't bother me, but a '1' on a comp entry is disappointing. Ugh. Gonna shake it off!

My cat likes my story. My cat likes my story. My cat likes my story.

Your cat obviously has discriminating taste, despite the whole being male thing.

Quote by JamesLlewellyn

Do you know how you know that cats are smarter than dogs?

You've never seen 7 cats pulling a sled.

Dogs come when you call. Cats want you to leave a message, then decide if they want to get back to you.

Dogs love you no matter what. Cats hate you no matter what – but you're still expected to feed them.

OK, Kimmi. I hardly ever eat cats anyway, so – I take it back: I don't like cats medium-rare.

😇

A thought for you from all the past, present and future pussies in Stall Three, Mr. Bear.

And the sled dogs you rode in on

My human that you call Ms Kistin

constantly requires forgivin'

for skipping my treats

while dreaming of teats

and new ways two girls can do sinnin'

Quote by KimmiBeGood
Ha! Tell Miss Pixel I was actually gambling - this time 😈

Unhuh, sure. And it wasn't me that pushed over the kitty treat jar...

(slivering out of her private entrance to Stall Three, Miss Pixel surveys the room carefully. Course laid in, she begins her journey. Displacing the tit mouse sleeping under Sprite's throne with maximum prejudice and two raisins, she leaps onto a table to bypass a foamy floor puddle complete with a tiny rubber ducky that doesn't fool her one bit. Her rebound away sends a plate of fish sticks and treacle pudding careening between two colonnades of empty beer steins and into the lap of a rotund gourmet with a walrus mustache who is desperately trying to flag down the non-existent drinks waiter. Paying no heed, she continues on her way, dodging a glop of raspberry donut jelly, then doing a shimmy slide between the legs of Kimmi and Drunk Guy who are slow dancing to "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Unscathed by the two pair of stiletto heels, but woozy from the ground-hugging booze vapors, she tree climbs up the back and on to the bald head of a plaid-draped used car salesman from Des Plaines. Across the table, his "niece" begins laughing hysterically, spraying him with her triple shot Whore's Breakfast before keeling over backwards and landing with a soft crunch in the deep drift of spent peanut shells. Timing the leap purrfectly, Miss Pixel vaults across the lacunae and skitters to a halt on the bar top, claws fully extended and digging deep. She watches with a smile as the bottle of thirty year old Glenlivet she bumped does a sensual rolling hula before toppling into the dish-filled sink, where it slowly glug, glug, glugs itself into oblivion. Destination achieved, she turns and addresses the room's few patrons who aren't completely glazed over.)

Formal and informal bipeds or any other semi-sapient life forms, your attention please. A few matters of importance. I'll be brief.

First. Once again Terance reminds the frisky among you that the Peanut Warmer is his home, too. It is not to be used for heating toys, lubes, or condoms. Fair warning: next time you might get a whole lot more than you reached for.

Second. The Stall Three cabinet where the special edibles are kept (including my salmon crack, not that that's important) has developed a glitch in the locking device. It no longer recognizes my paw print. No need to bother the boss about it, but if any of the Platinum Patrons with unlimited access could help out, I would be ever so grateful. Like free pets and purrs grateful. Like I won't mention that thing the other night grateful (yeah, you know who you are.) See me soonest.

Third. My human has mangled up another Micro.

Okay then, thanks. That's it for me.

Now look out, here I come.

Terance -- almost forgot! Your Annie Arachnid blow-up doll finally arrived. Stop by anytime, you leggy perv.

Assorted bipeds and those that are passing.

It's been some time since I ventured out of Stall Three to discuss security obligations and boundaries with Terance. I have to say the place is even more downtrodden than I remember. Oh well, nothing several hours of paw cleaning won't cure.

To the point of my risking the fleas, fungi, and flatulence: the human I allow to feed and pamper me is ticking over 3.885 years tomorrow. As I'm sure you know, she's not the most engaging or forthcoming sort -- truth told, she actually does hide behind curtains when available -- so gave no notice here of this early year bump in her timeline. Which is fine for her, but now I'll have to put up with her mopping about all day, eating dill pickles, drinking brown beer, and forgetting my salmon treats. That, obviously, will never do. I just mean the last part, of course. The other stuff is pretty day to day normal.

So, in the name of my personal Jones, I'm here to ask any of the semi-coherents draped about the place to wish her a happy something or other. Tell her she'd be at her sexual prime, if she had one. Tell her the gray hair I pointed out at her temple is sexy, really it is. Tell her you'll buy her whatever she's drinking and pay her back next week. Whatever. She's pretty gullible.

That's it, then. Back to the Stall and my decom.

Quote by KimmiBeGood
Umm, Miss Pixel, Boo thinks he may have a shot with you. Whatcha think?

Quote by curvygalore


Miss Pixel!!!!! *swoons and curtseys simultaneously*

Can I buy your serving maid a beer or three?