The Feral Cat In The HatBy Ted McCagg
November 28, 2010
November 28, 2010
When I was 10 we lived in Augusta, Georgia. A friend of my mom’s adopted a baby. The baby was a giant. Not literally a giant. It was neither jolly nor green, nor iron, but it was a really big baby. My mom’s friend insisted that the agency told her that the father was a professional wrestler. She was convinced, due to the size of the baby, and the strangely morose eyes that sat above big black half moons, that the father was the Undertaker. This was a serious point of pride for the mother, not to mention a really cool origin story for a kid that may one day need one.
February 17, 2010
Author’s Note: I’d like to thank TNB’s own Megan DiLullo for her invaluable comments as I created this piece.
When I was quite young, around a year old, my mom began reading to me. She started with Dr. Seuss books—The Cat in the Hat, On Beyond Zebra!, Green Eggs and Ham. My memories of those moments are extremely vague, smudged pastel impressions at best. But mom assures me that during those times I’d lay quietly in her arms, hypnotized by the sound of her voice, and the pages spread before me. With tiny fingers, I’d touch the colorful pictures. I’d touch the animated words practically leaping off the page.
March 12, 2007
Something happened to my sex drive, just the other day,
It up and stole the car keys, then it fucking drove away.
I screamed, I yelled and chased it as it sped along the road,
But it just flipped the bird at me and never even slowed.
I trudged back home, bereft, alone, bewildered and ashamed,
My head was filled with desperate plans for sexiness reclaimed.
I stayed up all night, the next night too, and jumped at every sound,
I imagined my libido, lost, was speeding homeward bound.
A week did pass and I confess, I rang the damn police,
They weren’t much help to me at all, they offered me no peace.
I put adverts on the lamp-posts and signs on all the trees,
I had the local paper print up “Sex Drive? Call me please?!”
The weeks they passed without a sign, and I gave up the hunt,
I realized that my sex-drive was a righteous bitch-ass c**t.
Now I don’t want it back at all, and I will be a nun,
If it comes back I’ll shoot it with my brand new loaded gun.
And so I say goodbye to sex, goodbye to love and all that crap,
Next time I feel a tingle I’ll just give myself a slap.