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Broken Record

My brother’s like a broken record.  He tells me about how we used to bike around the neighborhood pretending we were race car drivers, and how we’d gained multiple knee scrapes from turning the curb too fast. He’ll tell me this story twice, thrice, or even four times in a row, and laugh about the good ol’ days. I laugh with him, because though he doesn’t remember that he’s already told me this story for the fourth time in a row, he does remember the fun we had. My brother’s like a broken record, but I don’t mind one bit.

My Cat Robbed a Bank

My cat robbed a bank last night, and it was all over the news.

I was sitting on my couch watching The Lord of the Rings when, at the corner of my eye, I saw my black feline, with a devious sparkle in his green eyes, go through the doggy door. I didn’t think anything of it. Although looking back, this sparkle was more devious than usual. Then I heard a loud screech of a car speeding past my house. I had assumed it was just a stupid person at the wheel.

When I awoke the next morning and flipped the TV to the local news, I saw a video of cats storming a bank and then throwing what the reporter said were catnip smoke bombs. The catnip smoke bombs clouded everyone’s vision, while the cats somehow opened the vault and stole the cash. The news also showed footage of the cats in my neighbor’s silver van driving crazily out of the bank’s parking lot and speeding through the streets, screeching as they made crazy turns. That must have been the screeching I heard last night. My black cat had his paws on the wheel! He was the getaway driver! He swerved past cars and ran through stop lights as police cars were in hot pursuit!

I guess that’s what I get for adopting a cat named Bandit.


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