Cool Cat

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“You must go west my boy,” the stern papa of our favorite kitty said. “Whiskers the Wonder Cat I name you. You are a child of the stars, a starchild if you will. Go to Earth and take your place below The Lookout, to serve as the gateway between us gods and mortalkind. Haha, this is an idea I came up with myself, isn’t a great one?”

“O-okay papa!” our protagonist squealed like a hog in heat.

“I will send you to the planet, and it is your duty, my young felid spawn, to find your way to the tower. Do not get lost or distracted; the journey will be difficult and treacherous, probably. This is your test, Whiskers the Wonder Cat. Do not fail me, my boy. My boy!” The aged cat licked his lips and began to chase his tail.

“Yes papa I’m a senbyo.”

“A senbyo,” Papa Whiskers scratched his chin. “I saw that on your wiki page, but a google search yielded no results!”

“Lit af, fam,” replied our protagonist who either has blue or white fur, no one knows.

At once, a white light covered the kitty, and he was teleported to Earth. There he found himself, in the middle of nowhere, in a field of wild lavender. A keen wind was blowing, and the sun was shining bright. He could see a tower in the distance, far-off, hovering behind a rank of clouds.

He was not named Korin yet but he needed to be because it’s hard as hell to write about him without calling him his real name. So the first thing Sir Whiskers did was he ran through the prairie and he chased fruit flies, meowing softly as he watched them buzz about. They were true fruits, the kinds you would tango in Paris with. But one time Korin came upon a raven sitting in the field, munching on the brain of a scarecrow who wore a shirt that said ‘crows before hoes’. When Korin tried to eat the raven who was eating the scarecrow, the bird said, “Corn, corn, corn!”

“Korin is my name now. I am no longer Whiskers the Wonder Cat, a child of the stars,” Whiskers the Wonder Cat declared. “This raven is wise beyond his years, etc.” Then he ate the bird, even though it tried to scream ‘Snow!’, but that didn’t impress Korin, it just made him purr like Cosmo in the bushes.

Whiskers the Wonder Cat became Korin, the future Martial Artist of the World. He traveled the world as a cat, immortal and looking for strings to swat. He found many mice to eat, and many more sapiens to engage in various activities legal in most states with.

There was a fat man, a veritable tub o’ lard, rolling a monstrous cinnabun up the hill, its frosting oozing out like a Brazilian finger pie. His name was Jimothy Gaffigan, and he was well met. Rivers Cuomo liked to sing about how he was rolling that cinnabon up the hill, and if it rolled back down, whoa, Jimothy, it rolled back down! Jimothy was of course quite lazy and barely put an effort to go after the cinnabon after it rolled back down. Just watching him made Korin sleepy, so he didn’t stay in that field for long. He knew in the future he would sleep for days at a time, but there was no time for that now. He was a young spry kitten, ready to see the world. He cursed all the gods, the old ones and the new, and fled that horrible scene.

Korin the cat, who was legendary and a holo, galloped onwards. He came to a desert, where the ground was cracked and brown and tumbleweeds blew about and even a few cacti were growing. It was blue agave central ‘round these parts, and the kitten was thirsty for some tequila, but he was too young for that. The heat of summer was on him then, and the poor shaggy kitty was not pleased at all. He inspected the ground where winged men grew and even guys like Dourada were watering themselves. “I must make water,” he declared, even though not a single litter box was to be found. The sun was hot that day, my friends, like a leper trying to massage a bikini model.

Korin relieved himself in the dirt, which was most unnatural for a child of the stars. In that puddle, a beanstalk suddenly sprouted. The man known as Paul ‘perfectionus tectonis australopithecus’ McCartney, stepped forward, and plucked a bean off the sprout. “I never give you my number, haha,” Paul wheezed. “She tried to come in through the bathroom window, but I’m too smart for that. One time I had to go in through my neighbor’s bathroom window when she locked herself out of her house, but haha she’s dead now.” It was a magical feeling, akin to Zarbon having a fancy date dinner in a humanesque restaurant, but that’s a story for side two of Abbey Road.

So said Paul II: Faul’s in Town Yo, the greatest of them all. He shall not be forgotten. Rip in piece, mate. You deserve a nice golden shower. Korin, on the other hand, was about to leave when Paul handed him the bean. “Here mate, I found sommat for ya.”

“What is it?” the kitty questioned.

Korin thought this young man was pretty hard to see. Good thing he was good looking. “I dunno, some kind of magic bean, eh? Not really my cup o’ tea.”

The kitty protagonist of this here story took the bean, and raised it to the sky. “I hereby call this bean senzu, a name that is an obscure combination of two radical kanji! Haha, take that fakers!”

“Seems like something John would write a song about. Bangers and mash, God save the Queen!”

At the mention of another hominid, Korin got scared and ran for the hills. For the next few days, Korin continued scouring the countryside, in his hitherto unannounced journey. It was a journey embarked upon because Korin Sr. said “Go my child” and named him Whiskers the Wonder Cat, but I digress. Korin was on a mission, not to find anything in particular, not even to become a great god of martial arts. He was on a journey to kill time until his father either died or was satisfied. Such was the life of a senbyo like Korin, the first of his name. As I have already mentioned, his fur was either blue or white, depending on who you talk to. He really liked it when his ears got scratched. In such cases, he was liable to yell, ‘Oh baby, baby oh, I know, oh, oh, oh! Let me take you down to my strawberry fields (where nothing is real)!’.

Korin scampered across the plains, striding like a gazelle. His pace was remarkable in how unremarkable it was. His tummy flapped with every step. He was a fat cat, a nice plump boy ready to live out his days in luxury. His one sweet dream, of eating tuna off of a stripper, came true that day (yes it did). We can’t really talk about that since this is a family-friendly story. Anyways, once Korin had bred himself dry, he continued on with his journey. Where was he going? What was he trying to accomplish? No one knows. He ran across the prairies like a mad dog, like a weather balloon drifting into Nevada on accident.

A small demon child, called Beezelbub, the first of his name, Prince of the Underworld, played Pokémon Moon on his 3DS. It was a great game in his estimation, as good as any of the other Pokémon games, which is saying a lot and nothing at all. He sat in the shade of a great oak tree that was more weed than tree, that I would need to cut down before the sun set. He saw Korin trotting through the plains, chasing field mice and bone-dry dreams, and yelled “Shee!” but it was no use, since Shee isn’t a character in this story. He stood up, sucking on a bottle of water like it was a teat, and stopped the Wonder Cat in his path.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?!” Korin screamed.

“This waters mad, yo,” Beelzebub grunted. He put the bottle between his legs and squirted it. “I’m a squirter you pussy!”

“Ack, I’m a Wonder Cat!” Korin complained as he was splashed with a few drops of water. “Don’t get me wet, eh, heh, ayy, yeah??! Kitty doesn’t like to get wet!”

“You need some water. We all do! Curse this damn sun,” Beelzebub complained. “Why is it so hot?!”

The sun was indeed beating down upon the world with great force. The very air seemed to be boiling. It was summer, so everyone should have expected the heat, but they were retarded so they didn’t. Everything always surprised them. “What kind of water you got?” Korin asked the young demon prince slyly. “Any discounts for a legendary cat?”

“I’ve got sacred water,” the demon offered. “It’ll make whoever drinks it enlightened, stronger, and sexier! You’ll get all the ladies and understand the secrets of the universe! How cool is that? And all of these effects are guaranteed!”

“How much?”

“A million zeni plus tax,” the boy grinned.

“Deal!” Korin handed the thin pink demon the dough, which was of course his entire inheritance for being a god or something like that. It was remarkably coincidental that the money he had was in the same currency as the money used on Earth.“This stuff better be like Adderall on steroids.”

“It is,” said the cheeky demon boy with the pink skin and the pointy ears and the weird cape and the goggles on his forehead. He didn’t really look a demon at all, but more like the son of Majin Buu and Gohan. “If I was king of the underworld, you’d be my girl,” he assured Korin. “I take care of my girls.”

“I may be a pussy, but I’m no girl!” Korin yelled, swatting the kid across the face with his sharp claws.

Beelzebub fell back, screaming. Korin looked at his claw with wonder, realizing that he was quite a bit stronger than he had thought. The demon was crying and feeling his pretty lil face, ruined by the soon-to-be grand master of martial arts. “N-no fair… I wasn’t ready!”

“Hey, so this stuff makes me stronger, right? And all I gotta do is drink it?” Korin asked, not paying attention. When the demon nodded, he took a swig of the water, and patted his tummy. “Hey… I don’t feel any different!”

“Haha, sucker!” Beelzebub sniggered. He jumped up and began running off. “You paid a million zeni for some tap water, hahaha!”

Korin grew livid. It was the first lesson he learned on this journey, or maybe it was the fifth one. I’m not keeping count. He leapt forward and got down on all fours, racing tumbleweeds after the tricksy Beelzebub. The boy demon was as powerful as he was fast – a wily beast to be sure. He was no human, no mere mortal. Korin knew what that meant.

“Yeahahahah… kapow!!” Right into the kisser our ol’ kitty kitty flew with a kick which sent the demon sprawling into the dust.

“What’s your problem, cat?!” Beelzebub sneered. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I don’t think so,” Korin said cheerfully, doing a front flip and landing right on the meaty part of the boy’s belly. “Hey, do you know which way it is to the Lookout?”

“The what?”

“You heard me, cape kid,” Korin said, sharpening his claws.

“I’m on vacation, you stupid cat! You think I know where everything is on this boring planet?!”

“You look like a native,” Korin observed wryly.

“That’s funny. Now are you gonna let me go?”

Korin wasn’t listening. He jumped off the demon, like a tired lion, and pointed at the tower in the distance. “Maybe that’s it. What do you think?”

“Y-yeah, sure…” Beezlebub brushed the dust from his shoulders and stood up. He took a long drink from his bottle of water before throwing it aside. “Why do you need to get there anyways?”

“I’m going to be a god or some shit.”

“Sounds cool.”

Korin purred in agreement. “So do you know the fastest way there, kid?”

Beezlebub looked up in annoyance and raised his middle finger to the sky as if he was about to summon a trap card. “I told you I’m on vacation!!”

Korin patted his belly. “That you did.”

The kid’s face scrunched up and then he charged Korin, fists swinging. Korin was a cat, a senbyo as everyone knows. He was born with the martial arts gene; he could do shit you’d only seen in 1980s movies. But the Prince of the Underworld was quite a skilled fighter in his own right; he was more than ten times as strong as the average human. Still, Korin kicked him aside effortlessly. He slapped that lil bitch like a sideways turkey. See him fly. See him spin through the air, his cape swishing about. See him crash and burn. See his pride? It’s right there on the ground, like a broken mirror.

“Man, you’re strong for a pussy.”

“Stop calling me that. Dragon Ball is a family-friendly production!”

“But Akira wrote me cursing all the time in my manga!”

“Shut up kid, your manga isn’t nearly as popular as Dragon Ball.”

Beezlebub bit his lip, trying to think up a retort, but he couldn’t (really that means I can’t cause I’m the writer, etc.). So he sighed and pointed at a hill ahead of them. He was tired of Korin and wanted to get rid of the devious kitty as soon as was demonly possible. “That’s the fastest way to the tower thing. I came that way this morning. There’s a river. Just follow it west, and it’ll get you to where you wanna go in no time.”

The two walked over to the hill, which took seventeen minutes. Korin got many a foxtail stuck in his mane, but he didn’t care. He was an immortal cat, yo. He was crushin’ this scene. When he saw, indeed, there was a waterway, the cat was convinced.

A waterfall was roaring from the top of the hill, emptying itself into a fast-flowing stream. The two stood on the rocks near the water’s edge, feeling the nice coolness they had forgotten since summer had come. A few palm trees grew around the waterfall, providing it and the surrounding area with shade. Korin slapped his belly and let the coolness wash over him.

“Ya did good kid, ya did good,” he said. Korin wondered how old he was, if playing the old master was a good character move for him at this moment. He was, after all, not the legendary Korin that the whole world knew about yet, but he had a sass mouth on him, and his tongue was as sour as his daddy’s lips. It is known.

Korin handed Beezlebub a treasure – Sonic ‘06 for the Nintendo Wii. It was a precious gift, a wonderful game, a magisterial present that brought tears to the soft demon’s eyes. The Prince’s weakness was video games, as Korin didn’t know at all. He was going to play the shit out of that game when he got home, but his papa would try to limit him to but a single hour a day. Parents, they never learn, never understand. What can you really do in an hour? You can’t even get the first chaos emerald. And with how long the loading screens are, Beezlebub might not even beat the first level in an hour! But I digress.

Korin didn’t want to see the emotion the boy was exuding; it made him uncomfortable in a comedy story. So he kicked Beezlebub in the stomach, sending him flying through the air until he disappeared into the sky with a twinkle. Korin wondered if the kid could fly, or survive the fall, but he didn’t care to find out. Maybe one day he would read about what happened to the demon in the news.

Then Korin ran up to the waterfall and saw a most peculiar sight. There stood a man in fancy gleaming samurai armor, stumbling about, an orange pole in his hand. He looked drunk to Korin, and he was mumbling to himself in sweet melancholic tones.

“Hey there big fella,” the kitty said, bounding up to the man.

The samurai shrieked and nearly fell into the lake. His eyes grew wide and his lip began to tremble. “I-I’m Mitsushige, the greatest Dai-Daimyo! A-and y-you-you’re… a c-c-c-cat!!!”

“True fact.”

“I-I… p-please don’t kill m-me! It wa-wasn’t my f-fault! I’m… s-s-sorry!”

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about. So this is the part where you either explain it or stop talking about it.”

“I d-don’t want to talk about it!” the man shouted.

“Well that settles that. So tell me, do you have a boat I could ride down this stream, or what?”

“N-no… please! M-make it s-s-s-stop!!!”

Korin raised his hand in a gesture of speech, but the samurai thought that was a sneaky attack. He squealed and went white. He threw the pole in the air and began to sway back and forth. A second later, he fainted, and fell face-first into the stream. The water carried Mitsushige away, and Korin wondered how long it would take for him to drown. He felt quite content just watching the man die. He seemed to be too afraid to be happy to be living. A nice death would be a miracle for that guy, Korin knew. The kitty witnessed the man’s heavy armored body soon sink below the rushing blue, never to resurface so long as Mitsushige lived.

Korin crept forward to the orange pole, wondering what it was. It was a curious tool, perhaps one for the women of the night. It certainly wasn’t what a samurai would use – Korin knew that much, at least. This was a queer device, or maybe it was for such people. It was pretty thick though, and quite long, and detestably hard. That meant it probably wasn’t a pleasure wand. He held it between his paws, looking for any sign of what it could be, but it was plain and uniformly-colored.

Just as the cat was growing bored of the pole, he waved it, and it grew in length. Now I know what you’re thinking – Korin gave it the ol’ reach around, as any good man would do. But no, that is not the case. Korin wasn’t even sure what was happening. As the pole grew longer, the kitty grew less curious and more horrified, but he found he couldn’t let go. He kept waving it, desperate to get it to stop, but it wouldn’t. It shot up, sending Korin high into the air.

He went three miles up if he went a foot, I’ll tell ya, before Korin figured out how to make the pole stop getting longer. “Hey, I like heights, but this is getting ridic!” he shouted to the clouds around him. He was such a naïve feline; clouds can’t talk. They don’t even know what a kitty is, probably never saw one in their entire lives. I’d bet a nickel on that.

When Korin shook his wrist the other way, he found that the pole became shorter, so he slowly started shortening the pole. But oh no! Disaster struck! Korin thought he had steady hands, the kind Dr. Chase would have killed for. But he didn’t. He was a wee kitten, terrified of such great heights, and even though he was immortal, he was afraid of dying. So he wiggled back and forth hopelessly, and soon, he was falling.

This is a very convenient way to get to the next part of the story. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say, as Korin was falling, his pole got shorter and shorter. Think of it like shrinkage. That’s a bit ironic though, since this was the hottest day in months; it was the start of summer, after all. There weren’t any cold pools today, no sir. Anyways, just before Korin hit the ground, where he surely would have exploded into confetti as children cheered, he thrust the pole towards the ground and used it to stop his momentum. As his body jerked forward, towards the pole, he flipped forward and let go of the orange rod, and landed on all of his feet, on the ground. It was a beautiful maneuver, easily worthy of a 9.5 from even the Russian judge.

Korin looked around. Where was he, you ask? Why, at the bottom of the tower of his dreams! In a short amount of time, he had traveled a great distance with no issues. That’s the beauty of crafting a story. I make all of this shit up as I go. At the base of the tower, Korin saw a collection of huts, tents, and tipis. He saw a bunch of humans gathered around a fire, a tall smoke column rising from the center of their group to the azure sky above. They were chanting and beating drums, and a few of them were dancing like Michael J. Fox (he has Parkinson’s).

As Korin approached them, a shaman came running over. He was in hysterics and probably drunk since this entire group was basically comprised of Dragon Ball style Native Americans. Anyways, the man was dressed up in feathers and a cape and his face was painted like he was a linebacker. He said, “Oh great cat from the sky, warrior of our prayers, save us! Help us rid our land of the demons!”

“What are you talking about?” Korin asked.

“Oh it’s terrible!” the man sobbed. “We have been plagued by evil demons for months. They’ve killed our men, taken our wives, and burned our lands! We’re finished if someone doesn’t deal with them! I saw you come from the sky, wise cat. Tell me you have come to save us! Are you not a gift from the gods?!”

“Uh sure, if that’s you want to think. So tell me about these demons,” Korin said, bored. This was probably a part of his test, so he played along.

“Look at what they have done!” the shaman lamented, pointing towards the fields on either side of the tower. Korin could see the land had been burned, with deep gashes of ash etched into the earth. There were bodies too – many bodies. Far more than there were Native Americans in this terrible tribe that would one day produce Upa, a child less popular than Hitler’s micropenis.

There were armored men, banners, spears, and strangely-adorned blue-and-green skin aliens strewn about the ground. All were dead.

“What happened?” Korin asked.

“We called in an army of samurai, but they were defeated! Every one of them died in battle! It was horrible! I’m shouting! But the demons still remain. Please, holy cat,” the man said, bowing, “save us from these demons, and we will be eternally in your debt.”

“That’s just where I want you to be,” Korin assured him. “So, uh, where are these demons, exactly?”

The man pointed up at the tower. “At the top,” he said gravely. “That’s where they’ve been staying ever since they arrived.”

Korin was a good climber, a great climber, a genius climber. He could climb that pole like a starving cockroach. The top of the tower was obscured by clouds. The demons were living in cloud city, or cloud cuckoo land, maybe. The tower was certainly quite tall, and it reminded him of a stripper’s pole, but all the same, he knew he could climb it. He had practiced for this moment all his life.

“I’ll do it,” Korin purred, slapping his belly and letting the grease roll down his chin even though he wasn’t eating anything.

Before the priest could thank Korin, a huge green frog riding a unicycle came strolling up, cruisin’ da streetz. Korin thought he was high as a kite, but he wasn’t. This was real life.

“Here come dat boi!” someone shouted.

“Oh shit, waddup!” the shaman screamed, falling over in astonishment. The frog didn’t see him and it ran him over, and he died and it was real sad and that’s the end of this section.

He climbed that kitty tower, he did. He was nice and cool; I love Korin a lot. And, oh look there he is! Look at his curled shoes, the toes go up in the air like a croissant. Look at him go! Wew lad! The old balloonman went ‘weeeee’ and jumped off the tower. He was something special, that balloon man. He made me go ‘weeeee’ in the rain and I saw the raccoon man and I wrote a poem about him for my best friend… that guy is a bitch if I ever saw one.

They were playing poker when he found them, which is a truly detestable game. I hate it and I love it, but that is neither there nor hair. A bunch of demons were sitting around the table at the top of cloud city. They were smoking cigars and drinking pineapple vodka and having a swell time (by that I mean certain parts of their bodies were quite swollen). Korin didn't’ like that all. He fuckin hated these fuckers.

“Die demons,” kitty said. Kitty’s a nice kitty. “I kill you!”

“We aren’t demons!” one of the green-and-blue skinned aliens said, standing up with all his agitation (which was quite extensive, my god). “We are the Makyan Superior Race! Bow before us, infidel!”

“Fancy talk, you lil bitch,” Korin winked. “You guys are evil, so I’ll kill you.”

The big one stood up and began sweating real bad. “I’m Shallot, father of Garlic.” He held up his small child, who was a blue-skinned pointy-eared monstrosity who reminded Korin of Beezlebub, god rest his soul. He was like the baboon at the start of The Lion King, and he held lil Garlic up for all to see, but not even one of them was impressed or gave even two pence of a fuck. Then he threw Garlic over the side of the tower, and that baby flew, weeee.

Korin didn’t have time to think about what was going on. He said, “You need to stop attacking the people of Earth, or I’ll make you pay.”

“Fat chance!” said the Makyan known as Shallot. “We hurt lots of people, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! We love it, it makes me cum buckets when I do it.”

“Okay, but that means I’ll have to kill you.”

“Don’t you know it’s gonna be alright?!” a Makyan in the background shouted, that interrupting fucker.

Shallot limped over to Korin, holding an ancient wooden walking stick. “What are you doing up here, fat cat? Can’t you see this is Makyan territory? I don’t like you intruding upon us. Yer a meanieface bitchmcgee.”

“This is my new home,” Korin explained. “Papa told me to come here, so I did, and now you guys gotta leave or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll do to you what the spring does to the cherry tree.”

Shallot’s face went purple with fury. “Take that back, common house cat!”

“I’m not a house cat, I’m a senbyo,” Korin said carelessly, “and you’re standing in my way.”

“You are a stupid cat,” Shallot observed. His animals came up behind him to form their ranks. “You cannot hope to beaet all of us.”

“Ya I can,” Korin said carelessly.

“Why you little pussy,” retorted the fearsome Makyan alien monstrosity of many muscles and a thick neck.

“Don’t you know it’s gonna be alright?” Korin said to them, grinning. He took out the samurai’s pole and pointed it at them, flicking his wrist.

An orange flash followed by an alien scream echoed a dozen times until it was only Korin, Shallot, and one other Makyan who wasn’t taken out yet because there’s a joke involving him that I haven’t got to yet. So the last remaining Makyan of unnamed origin, stepped forward. He was a big guy, who looked like he was gonna kick the shit out of Korin, which often happens in Dragon Ball. The big guy is always easily defeated by the protagonist, though.

“I’m gonna be about animal cruelty,” said the Makyan grunt, bless his heart. He’s weak and won’t amount to anything, but don’t tell him that. “I’m a man, I’m a treasure trove,” he said angrily. “What’s my name? I’m MC Rove!”

With that, the big Makyan baby butterface McJekins McGee rushed at Korin. Korin was a wizard of Martial Arts, even in his young age. He swiped that guy with fury swipes, and bam, the Makyan went dead, dead, deader, and died off the side of the tower, and he fell that nigga did, see ya!

Then it was Korin and Shallot, two left to fight for the future of the universe!! You know how Dragon Ball fights go on forever, with the peeps powering up for half an episode, then throwing one punch, then a cliffhanger? Well not in my fan fiction god damnit. Fuck Akira, he’s a bitch who likes to watch men grunt. Korin’s a doer, not a power-upper. He hit that bitch, he did. He got Shallot right in the face, right in his pretty nose, which was as pointy as Bill Clinton’s penile instrument. Shallot screamed, he screamed like he wanted ice cream or maybe some Nubian puse. Look at Korin go; he shot the guy with a vicious punch of a martial arts master! He’s like Bruce Lee playing ping pong. Bam, he him in the face. He use the pole to probe the Makyan like an alien. Poor Shallot. He was the grandfather of Garlic Jr., a very important filler villain. That’s all he contributes to this universe really. Rip. So Shallot goes bye bye, look at him fly, his curly toes and ears, weee.

Shallot sailed off the side of the tower, but Korin was not done. He’s a kitty, a predator, a navy seal. He hit that fat blue bitch hard in the stomach. He made Shallot scream. He made Shallot into the woman of the relationship. Shallot spit up blood, tried to punch the kitty, but Korin was too quick. One time, the Makyan yelled, ‘Here kitty kitty’, and Korin came.

“Hello everyone, I am here,” said Korin.

Korin knocked Shallot over. Shallot dropped his fancy walking stick, and the poker cards flew in the air. The poor Makyan was destined for greatness, but this senbyo kitty kitty had other plans. He grabbed the snake demon by the face and threw him off the tower. Like his son, like the other Makyans, he turned out to be nothing more than a useless sack of baby testicles. Shallot fell, that nigga did, and he splatted on the ground to rip in piece forevermore.

“GG,” said Korin, and he picked up Shallot’s walking stick. “A shallot is the nearest relative to garlic, ha! I impress myself everyday!” The kitty began to purr.

He was a young kitty, an animal who did not need a walking stick, but he used it anyways because one day he would be a wise master of Yunkai. Korin was purring like Diablo, who is my brother’s kitten. Diablo is a dumb name for such a sweet kitty, who is much like Korin. Korin didn’t have to work for anything. He was born that way. He gonna knock some heads together; he’s a cool cat who can throw some punches like Jet Li, holla at my boi.

Korin walked up to the side of the tower, and stared down at the ground far below. He wondered what it would feel like to fall from there. Probably like an egg with emphysema. Then, he walked over to a nearby table, swiped all the poker chips and vodka bottles from it, and brought a little pot with soil he’d found in the corner over to it. Then he took out the bean Faul had given him.

“Heh, I wonder if this’ll grow into some beans a guy named Goku will eat in the future, which will heal him of all injuries instantly. That would be nuts, but this is Dragon Ball, so anything is possible. Haha, what a guy.”

He looked up and saw the sun setting. The Native Americans would owe him bigtime. He fondled the pole between his fingers, wondering how long it could get. “That’s silly,” he said to no one. “This ain’t no Tokyo dome. This is a canon story.”

Korin nodded, agreeing with himself. He was quite an impressive puse in his own eyes. He was a great cat, and he wondered how big his belly could get. He looked around the tower, trying to see if there was any food for him to engorge himself upon. “One day I’ll live with a cowardly samurai up here, because Akira is a dummy and lacks any foresight.”

The wind blew, skirling and uncontrollably. Korin purred in response. He felt the pole, and thought that maybe it could be a pleasure wand after all. He sat in Shallot’s seat, and looked at what the Makyan’s poker cards had been – a deuce and a four. He laughed, thinking to himself what a bluffer that alien had been. Korin was a senbyo, a god, a cat of regal disposition. He liked his tummy rubbed and even enjoyed when that spot behind his ears was tickled lightly. He stood up again, dropped the pole and Shallot’s walking stick, and stalked off deeper into the tower.

“There’s gotta be some catnip in here,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “This hurt me a lot, now I want to feel good, etc.”

Suffice to say, Korin did not find any catnip, for he was the first cat to ever ascend to that tower. But he did find a Jenna Haze legacy Fleshlight, and, in his estimation, that was just as good. Like my friend, Mr. Q, Korin then proceeded to mate with the Haze machine for untold hours, until he had, once again, bred himself dry.