The game is on again.

Friday, June 29 #BallsOrNoBalls

Tonight Kate was like: “Phoebe.”

Me: Yes.

Kate: I’m taking all the kittens to have their shots and stuff on Monday.

Me: And?

Kate: You need to tell me what you want with Richard.

Me: What do you mean what do I want with him?

Kate: He’s a pure-breed tomcat. He could make someone a lot of money.

Me: You still want to sell him.

Kate: Of course I do. But. I know what it’s like when you feel all mushy on the inside and you can’t imagine giving up something that sweet, especially when the person you loooooooove adores it so.

Me: Everything is fine with my insides. I just think Emma should have him.

Kate: I understand that, but have you had a chance to ask Emma?

Me: No.

Kate: Okay, so that’s your mission tomorrow, because I need to know if his future owner wants to use him. If not, I’ll have his tiny little balls chopped off on Monday.

Me: That’s horrible.

Kate: Actually it’s more like twisting them off.

Me: Stop.

Kate (shrugging):…

I texted Emma straightaway:

If you were Richard’s parent, would you want him to be in working order and make you lots of money, or would you want him to have his balls twisted off?

Emma texted back:

?

I was just like: “Never mind,” because, in all honesty, I can’t have a conversation with Emma about a cat’s testicles.

Saturday, June 30 #NoBalls

Kate says she’s going to have to look for more volunteers now that we’re one person down.

It’s like we’re in a war.

I suppose we are, in a way.

We need to work harder so we can make more money, so people can do more research and people don’t have to die from cancer anymore.

It’s the war against death, which in a way is stupid, because we all have to die.

But I do think, since I’m not really good with people, and will therefore never be like Mum and Dad, that this is the only way I can help others, and maybe the world/the universe/karma will be pleased.

Lots of customers have been coming into the thrift shop going: “Oh, isn’t it terrible about Melanie? But she did have a good life.”

I reckon this is another thing we tell ourselves so we can feel better.

I asked Emma about Richard’s balls in person, which was strangely less awkward than in a text, and she was like: “I wouldn’t want him to have his balls twisted off, that’s cruel.”

Me: But here’s the other side of the argument. What if he goes around and shags all the cats in the neighborhood?

Emma: I suppose there’s enough unwanted kittens in the world.

Me: If he keeps his balls, it would literally be his job to shag other designer cats and make designer kittens.

Emma: My poor baby.

Me: He’d be like a stud horse.

Emma: Have you ever seen horses shagging? The size of a horse’s penis is something else.

Me:…

Emma: I mean, I didn’t watch it on purpose.

Me:…

Emma: I say he should have his balls twisted off, then. But why are you asking me about this anyway?

Me: No reason.