T'wasn't A Night Before Anything

Well, just a few drawstring moments ago, I was eaten! Attacked to be eaten or something just as worthy. I fear I have the sweet aroma of death and discusting decay or plague like looks for why else would it happen? I say, all's I was doing was trying to sleep, but how horrible it is to sleep all uncomfy like on a bed of cat hair. So out I stretched, like a wormy and pop! It had vacated the saftey zone; exposed from beneath the covers. Yet somehow, I did not realise.

So suddenly it happened and I became chow chow for the beast. Sharp lines of awesome and jerkingly painful pains sent a half decent lot of upward fireworks. Oh my poor toe! It became food for my little kitty turned feral mascot from hell. A toe to keep for poking him in his sleep, those are the rules he says.

It Was Not Me, It Was The Finger.