The cats are guarding the tree and presents until I make my triumphant return home on Christmas night. Rest assured Santa will visit them that morning. The story on the night before is just a little different in a cat house…
Twas the Caturday Before Christmas
narrated by Ralphie Levans
Twas the Caturday before Christmas and all through the apartment, three creatures were stirring, plotting their latest weekly installment.
The stockings were hung on the wall without care, with the promise they soon would be covered in hair.
The girl was nestled all snug in her bed while relentless torpedo cats swatted at her head.
With Weaz in fur boots and Tilly the handicat, we’d just settled our brains for a 23-hour nap.
When out on the balcony there arose such a clatter, I looked carelessly from the bed to see what was the matter.
Slowly to the window I walked with great burden, shredded the shades and ripped down the curtain.
The moon on the roof of the pawn shop next door gave a luster of midday to tattoo parlors and more.
When what to my laser focused night vision eyes should appear but a swanky red sleigh and eight cats with no fear.
With a little old driver who don’t give a fuck, I knew it moment it was PRINCESS MONSTER TRUCK.
More rapid than eagles, her coursers they came, and she whistled and shouted and called them by name.
To the top of the couch, to the top of the wall, now dash away dash away dash away all.
As dry leaves that before the hurricane fly, they crushed up some catnip and got super high.
So into the house the famous cats flew, with a sleigh full of toys and Princess Monster Truck too.
And then in a twinkling I heard and I saw, the scratching and clawing of each little paw.
As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney Monster Truck came with a bound.
She was dressed in all fur from her head to her paw and her teeth were all polished in glittering awe.
A bundle of toys she had flung on her back and she looked like a Monster Truck just opening her pack.
Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her mane, how hairy! Her cheeks were like black roses, her nose like a black cherry!
Her fierce underbite was drawn up like a pitchfork and her shiny black coat was “very New York.”
The stump of your life she held tight in her teeth and catnip smoke encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when she laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old cat, and I bowed when I saw her in honor of that.
A glisten of her tooth and a flip of her mane soon gave me to know she would make it rain.
She spoke not a word but went straight to her work, filled each cat stocking and turned with a twerk.
And laying a paw aside of her fang, and giving a nod, off the balcony she sprang.
She ran to her sleigh, to her team gave a wail, and away they all flew like the swish of a tail.
But I heard her exclaim ‘ere she drove out of sight:
Happy Cat-mas to all, and to all a good night!