- Where her last thought was
- Boigraphical Notes and Such
- Contact Me
- Juggling Some Affections: a little love story
- The Powdered Wig Series
- Capturing Myself
- Feminist Paper Dolls for March 2012
- Feminist Paper Dolls for March 2013
- Feminist Paper Dolls for March 2014
- Shadow Puppetry
- Gas Mask Series: The Studies and Underdrawings
- Bird Boys
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
I recently was able to sit down with Sargent Cesar Abyssan, a veteran of the Cat Collective Uprising. He was given clearance to answer only a few questions and indeed, Sargent Abyssan is a cat of few words. I am however grateful for the length that the Sargent spoke to me on his covert desire to see an end to the current conflict.
Sargent Abyssan, would you please tell me about your Ground Forces unit?
What is there to tell? I train young kittens in the resistance. These are proud young kittens. They are beautiful and my job is to make them haul bombs on their backs. So many young ones have flashed in front of me...all proud with their lush tails waving their willingness to join a fruitless cause. Better to ask me how many young ones I have sent to their deaths with the idea that firebombing beds and couches ...
(Sargent Abyssan stood up at this point and then just as abruptly sat back down.)
I am sorry. First, I must excuse myself. As a young cadet I had a lovely tail. It was very long and offered me a quick easy way to tease and flirt with the other cadets. I was so very proud of my tail. I held it high and totally disregarded the warnings of my Sargent to keep it down.
The day I fitted for my harness was a very wonderful day. I would be granted a freedom mission. I would be allowed to contribute to the resistance of the onslaught of our wildlands by you human hoards. This was a day of days.
They loaded my platoon with our weapons and we were off...using all the tactics they had taught us.
I was the only one to return. My tail was left on that field as well with my platoon. My tail was held high in signal only to be blasted off by the exhaust from the rocket. My tail and my mates...I would have given up a thousand tails just to be with my mates for one more evening.
(Sargent Abyssan shifted in his perch, watching just beyond me at something in the corner. His body flickered and twitched.)
I don't talk of these things. It is all useless. I train the young ones. That is my job. I train them to fire bombs from their backs. I tell them to keep their tails down. They don't listen sometimes and then they return to me mangled. Or they torment me in dreams...dead kittens on the side of some road.
One day someone will sit down with the lot of you humans and perhaps you will get it. But that is not my job. Mine is to train the resistance. My job is to send young ones out to disrupt your hate. And it has reduced me to a shell and you are all to blame for this. However, I do not hold it against you. It is the way of it.
(Sargent Abyssan bolted from his perch and pounced on the vision just behind me. I turned my head in time to hear a squeal and observe the lame veteran ripping apart a rat. He did not return to our conversation but cleaned his face and left the room.)