By: Pete Johnson
|Not Pete Johnson.|
This economy is crazy, amirite? One day you are a busy and involved member of society, commuting and being outside and talking to other human beings and such, next thing you know you are growing whiskers, napping, and licking your own butt all day every day. I know I am.
The first thing I felt when I was laid off and subsequently realized I was eligible for unemployment benefits was an immediate and immense sense of accomplishment. There was no sadness, because I hated my job with a capital “Is today the day I light someone on fire?” There was no shock, because I had moved past working just hard enough not to get fired and moved on to being such a shitty worker that I was effectively daring them to fire me, oh dear god just fire me.
Instead of firing me, they laid me off. I don’t know the actual definition of getting laid off, but for me getting laid off is getting fired only they give you a good reference and then you are still eligible for unemployment. Technically I was being a worthless piece of shit because they could never pay me enough to like my job enough to not be a worthless piece of shit. Thankfully, “couldn’t afford to pay him enough not to be a worthless piece of shit” is, I guess, technically a government approved reason to lose your job and still get unemployment. I could not believe I had somehow managed to pull this off.
There was also no panic. I suppose that’s what unemployment was invented for. It exists so when real working people lose their real jobs that they real care about and really real depend on, they don’t die of what-the-fuck- am-I-going-to-do-now-except-starve-to-death panic. This was a good move, inventing this thing that helps people avoid this panic. It is really nice to be able to go to a job interview for a job I actually want and not just the first thing. It is even nicer to be at that interview and not be desperate with every inch of my body that they will hire me, or at least give me some kind of free snack before they reject me in order to justify the bus fare expenditure.
So yeah, good move unemployment inventor guy. You did me a real solid there. Except now I am a cat.
I stay at home all day. I have to stay indoors, because I don’t have my shots (money) or the wherewithal (money) to be trusted to go out there. I walk around like I own the place, with an odd sense of accomplishment that could not have come from anywhere besides something I made up in my small mammal brain. When my roommates come home I welcome them warmly until they stop paying attention to me and I wander into another room to lick my own butt. Unless I am napping. Those fuckers straight do not exist if I am napping.
Did you ever look at a cat napping peacefully in a sunbeam and think “oh man, that looks nice, I wish I was a cat?” Well guess what, it IS nice. Any employed person will tell you “naps are the fucking best, good god do I miss naps.” Any newly unemployed person will tell you “naps ARE the fucking best, good sweet holy Moses did I miss my naps before I was laid off from that hellish nap-free hell.”
So it is really not that bad, being an unemployed indoor catman. There is a roof over your head and food in your bowl. There are plenty of ways to keep yourself occupied for free, such as reading books, or licking your own butt. Any solitary activity done for free and with the sole purpose of entertaining yourself to ward off cabin fever is essentially the same thing as licking your own butt, especially looking at the internet.
The only problem with being a cat is that every once in a while you will catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and freak the fuck out. Like, full on, “AAAAHHHHH SHIT I’M A CAAAT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT FUCKING THING” cat in a mirror type freak out. But really those aren’t so bad because everyone has cat in a mirror, what-am-I-doing-with-my-life freak outs sometimes. Even employed people, maybe especially employed people, have these freak outs. I know because I had them way more often before I was a cat. Now when I have these freak outs I can just get distracted by a piece of string or something until it is time to take another nap.
Still, I have to get out of here before I start actually shoving my asshole in my human roommate’s faces and pooping on the floor. Like any indoor cat, I badly want to escape from this house so that I might have the opportunity to fuck something. Might even one day be grown enough to start a family, who knows? It is a wide world of possibilities out there, and my mouth is starting to taste a lot like my own butt.