Big Pussy is trying to kill Crissy.
Here we are as a happy couple last April:
Not so much.
It all started about 5 or so months ago when Crissy started having to get up in the middle of the night to eat or else she’d throw up.
And it’s still going on.
Take last night, or early this morning to be accurate because we’re nothing around here if not accurate and totally factual, for example. Crissy woke up per usual at 2:15 am to go downstairs for her snack because god fucking forbid she remembers to get a snack to keep next to her bed.
That would make sense and Crissy just doesn’t play like that.
So Crissy has to get out of bed and disturb Big Pussy who sleeps on her face. She has tried to extricate herself without waking him, but it is impossible Queefs.
It cannot be done.
And that is very bad because if Big Pussy doesn’t get a full 23.5 hours of sleep per day, he’s a cranky pants.
He’s so cranky, in fact, that he has decided to kill Crissy.
Just look at him!
And his intentions are quite clear as he races her to the bottom of the stairs, turns around as fast as he can, and runs back up, aiming his body directly at Crissy in an attempt to make her fall either through the double windows on the middle landing or tumble down to the bottom of the stairs.
He knows Crissy is sleepy and a little clumsy and that she can see less and less of her feet let alone the stairs these days and so the likelihood of his eventual success is very, very high.
But you know what Queefs?
Crissy isn’t gonna let some punk ass cat do her like this.
She’s going to keep right on getting her Raspberry-Graham Kashi bar and her glass of Rhody Fresh locally milked milk as if there wasn’t a thug waiting to kill her on the stairs.
In fact, Crissy says bring it gangsta.
And just so you know Crissy’s not, well, a pussy?
Here’s a little taste of what she’s capable of:
Crissy went there.
You sleep with a dog, Homeslice.
And now everyone knows.
Crissy is fully prepared to make Mister get up and get her Kashi bar.