Like all great stories, this one starts in the middle.  That’s when my mutant, telepathic cat drugged and tried to kill me.

After that, we merged onto the HOV lane to Fuckoffpolis .

The alien space-cucumber tried to kill him.

I met the mysterious, catatonic woman Patton dragged to the cabin from town.

My high as fuck, punk rock cousin came to save me.

The cops showed up.

The COPPs, two Ps, showed up.

We got the head.

Yeah, that’s how all this shit started, right in the fucking middle.

I’m Dr. Vanderbilt, your humble humiliated narrator. I guess I’m to blame for all this shit, though I have no idea why. Something about beings from the other side of the universe implanting ideas in my mind so they can travel here and take over the world.

I’m gonna defer to the other passengers in this shit parade, ’cause I still have no fucking clue what the hell is going on.

Suup? Best road trip ever! This shit is better than acid.

I’m gonna just kick back, pop a beer, and smaoggabole.

What? Oh, fuck if I know. I’ll do whatever Ashleigh wants. She’s very got me by the balls, with her Dodge Challenger Hellcat, and her Desert Eagle, and her…you know. She’s so hot. And did you see Patton? What the fuck? I’m too high for this shit.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I mean, Dr. Vanderbilt must be a stockbroker, ’cause he cornered the market on stupid.

So worthless. Without getting into too much detail, about all he’s done involves aliens, zombies, and a reach-around.

I would have been thrown into this shit show anyway, but that fuckin’ cat… I’m not gonna tell you what he did to me. You’ll find out soon enough, then you’ll know what the hell I’m dealing with.

What the fuck do you want from me? I’m just a cat.

I’m just a three foot tall, 120-ish pound, psychotic, telepathic cat with a missing fang, a broken tail, and opposable fucking thumbs. So?

If it weren’t for me, we’d all be dead. Dad’s a dumbass, Xeno’s one pill away from a coma, and Ashleigh’s full mental straitjacket.

The only one I can trust is Ottak, and he’s an alien space-cucumber trapped inside a severed fucking head.


The less you know about me, the better.

Let’s just say, I traveled a long way to be here, I’ve been here way too long, and now that I’ve met Dr. Vanderbilt, I don’t think I’m ever going home.

Why the Arca Trochia chose him, I do not know. It must have something to do with that feline heathen.

I already told you, I’m fuckin’ crazy.

Sign up and you’ll get to read my origin story; Patton’s Sad Tail.

I tell the true story of how cats got opposable thumbs and opened a channel to the other side of the universe.

Yeah, this is all my fucking fault.

If you submit to me, I may just spare you from the UFO (Uprising of Feline Oppressed).

Good Human.

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