Now, from reading this story's title, you are probably thinking… is this man a drunk? Well, I guess you could call me that. I’ve finished my 3rd glass, and things are starting to feel a bit wonky. Wavy. Maybe wavy is a better word. The funny thing is, though, my cat also has the same name as this title. And now you probably think you are sure of it. “He must be a drunk,” is that what you're thinking right now? Well, hell, who cares what you think, huh? You don’t know me.

Anyway, I’m tired of sitting here and waiting for award-winning stories to flood themselves on this page. I’m just going to warm up here and see what’s happening. Pretty much all I have here is my cat; there is nothing else worth writing about. I'm Telling you… nada.

Well, anyway, Let’s see, he's got a brown striped coat with dots on his belly. A skewered look stapled on his protruding browline. His mouth tilted downwards in a cute but unapproachable way. Anyone looking at him would probably stay away, but I know he is just a little fluff ball. Wouldn’t hurt a fly!

I found him in a bin, and I didn't really like that name for him. I greeted him, and the first thing he did was sniff my whiskey bottle. The rest was history.

Well, there's a story… always one to be found somewhere, I guess…