Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Don Juan Seamus De Marco, or Mr. Personality (Pt.4) An Unkind Cut (R RATED!)

Some arguments are just not winnable, and further more are fraught with potential wounds. Marcie and I locked horns over Seamus's neutering, and it got ugly fast.

"Honey, we need to get someone to take us to the vet so he can be neutered," Marcie said. "He's getting aggressive with us, he's running off and now he's, well... he's fucking Cammy's kitten!"

Now, I knew that Seamus should be neutered, but I had hoped to see him father one litter of kittens first. He is a beautiful cat and quite clever for a feline, in my admittedly doting opinion.

"Honey, I agree but let's just make sure he has one set with Kazi and then we can..." I was stopped cold as her hands snapped to her hips, she leaned forward, her eyes narrowed and she bit her lower lip, nodding.

"This is some macho bullshit from you, isn't it?" she asked, smiling as she went right for the rhetorical jugular. "Well, well, well. It looks like Mr. Politically Correct wants to protect the right of males everywhere to father kids."

"That's not it, I just think he's a smart and a cute cat and they would have..." I was interrupted again.

"Oh, you know, this makes so much sense now," she said. "You asking me last month if I wanted kids and then not saying anything when I said I didn't know," she bit her lip, hips still cocked, then leaned back and flipped her hair, crossing her arms.

"So Seamus is your dick now?" she asked, her eyes lit up a little as she mocked me.

"No, that has nothing to do with it," I said. "If he has one set of kittens, what's the problem? He has one set and he losses his rocks and he lives a long life. Why should we have the right to not let his genes stay in the species?"

"The species?" she asked, shaking her head. "You are such an ass, Frank. Such! An ASS! He's a fucking cat, he's not an endangered species. Just admit you see him as a metaphor for your own manhood. I can accept that."

I was getting a little angry, so I finally wallowed into the mud. "Sure, if you'll admit that that's what he is for you."

"What? I have no idea what you mean," she said. "He is my manhood? That doesn't make any sense at all. It's stupid."

"Is it?" I asked "Isn't Seamus just a proxy for all the men you hate and don't trust, whose balls you want to cut off because you've been hurt? Will his little kitty balls getting scooped out before he breeds make you feel better about your mistakes?"

Her eyes went wide with fury and she shook her head as she went beet red. I stuck my tongue out at her and she stepped in close. She jabbed her finger at me "You need to get over it and help me get this done, Frank. I am not arguing with you."

She shouldered past me and slammed the bathroom door. Seamus looked on wild-eyed from the door, hoping I would err and he could escape again. I did not, and I realized he didn't care about all of these off-point arguments.

He just wanted to get laid.

Despite my regret, I had pride and stubbornness to serve, so the argument was not over. We had just set up our initial positions, actually.

But as Seamus began howling and caterwauling at the door and the world of cat ass he imagined beyond it, scratching at it incessantly, I already regretted digging in.