Life With Furry Little Heathens

The scene is our apartment, too early on a Sunday morning.

Furry Little Heathens: (in unison): We need foooooood. We are starving, starving, shriveling and dyiig. We need water. We are parched. We need out litter box cleaned. It's is full of cat poop."

The Fat Hobbit: "We need and watered you yesterday, you Furry Little Heathens, and it's your fault there's poop in the littler box. Besides, someone is wrong on the Internet."

FLHs: (in unison, weaving between the Hobbit's legs): We need foooooood. We are starving, starving, shriveling and dyiig. We need water. We are parched. We need out litter box cleaned. It's is full of cat poop."

TFH: "Which one of you future mittens pooped in the doorway to the computer room."

FLHs: *crickets*

TFH: "Fine, I am never feeding either of you again, and just deal with the fricking litter box."

The Cat's Mommy: "Hun, one of the cats looks like it's going to poop in the bathroom. You want to deal with that or shall I?"

TFH trundles to the bathroom to see FLH-Fat pee on the yellow bathmat.

TFH: [swears like a sailor.]

TCM: "Well, it's not the first time someone has peed on the bathroom floor."

TFH: Comtemplates throwing FLH-Fat at TCM.

TFH notices the FLH-Fat used it's claws to scrunch up the bath mat to cover the pee spot."

TCN: "Of course she did."

TFH changes the damned little and feeds the FLHs.

FLH-Fat climbs in and christens the litter box.