Here is the beginning of a short story written by my absent friend, J. Morse:
"It seems like I can’t get five minutes into fucking my cat before something interrupts me. Usually its my cell phone which just blows my concentration. This time it was the doorbell. I tossed the cat aside and it didn’t even bother to get up. By now it knew I would be back, and after 3 months the fat tabby may have come to like it. I threw the closest pair of pants I could find on and grabbed the lint roller. I managed to get myself together before I opened the door enough to see that it was Ted Johnson from the Ol’ Class of 94. “Ted!” I exclaimed with a burst of enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in years. “Hey there Charlie you old cat fucker!” he shouted. Drat – he must have seen me through the window."
Three cheers J. Morse.
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