The Crumpet

For three long months, my gargoyle has been patiently waiting to meet the woman of those dreams he has that almost drown him in his cage. This is the week he finally gets to sniff her.

Gargy was chomping on his claws and micturating approximately every 90 seconds (which is almost twice as often as usual. Luckily, he now uses Annie's litter box - especially when she's in it, which makes her grumpy, which is just dandy - so that's one less urine-soaked stress on my Cleaning Lady). While his usual mood can be described as "depraved hyperactivity", I would characterise his current demeanour as "stupid male waiting to meet his potential pink penis cozy".

We've all been there.

The Girlfriend arrived an hour before the Canadiens' first playoff game to pick up her date. I met her at the door and, before introducing Gargy, I briefed her on the best ways to handle his chains (it takes a little practice to get the choke collar to stick properly into his oesophagus). She acted disinterested and aloof, almost hostile towards me. When she spat at my feet, I assumed it was that British sense of humour I've so often heard of (though a woman whose passions combine English hooliganism with the Ice-Bound Sport of the Illiterate and Dentally-Challenged can be expected to expectorate).

When the little secretion pumper made his appearance, the attraction was instantaneous. Upon seeing his belle, he started making what I assume is the Gargoyle Dance of Seduction (three hops on alternating legs then four pelvic half-thrusts. Quite impressive). The Tart seemed to appreciate it - I assume this by the way she lustily licked his nose hairs.

...I handed her the remote to the shock collar (he wore two collars. One can't be TOO safe) and wished them both a good time. She blandly returned the pleasantry by goobing on my Rockports.

Lovely girl.

*******

The Canadiens won and Gargy did not return until 2:00 p.m. the following day. I had no way of communicating with the young lady, so I was slightly worried that my spastic buddy would never come back, leaving rope orders unfilled. In his absence, and being left alone with me, Annie had become unsettled and her fur-vomiting became particularly acute.

When the new couple finally entered the appartment, my usually wired little friend seemed rested and vaguely blissful. His female, on the other hand, was a wreck. She had changed clothes, but otherwise was completely shabby. Her hair seemed to have been shampooed with cabinetmaker's adhesive and all visible skin was striped with claw marks and dried blood.

They kissed (which, considering the size of Gargy's nose, was quite a remarkable thing to witness) and made plans to see each other later on that night. She then waddled down the stairs, somehow looking fearful and incontinent.

...my gargoyle splayed himself on the couch and instantly fell asleep. Annie nuzzled him and farted.

Hm.