chapter one
ME AND THE KID WITH THE WOODEN NOSE
MY CAT EATS KITTY FRITTERS BECAUSE …
If she didn’t eat Kitty Fritters, she would die of starvation
.
Kitty Fritters is the only cat food my mother will buy. She buys it because she says it’s cheap. She says she doesn’t care how it tastes, or what it’s made out of. My mother is not the kind of person who believes that an animal is a member of the family. She is one of those people who thinks a cat is just a cat
.
I have an aunt who thinks that her cat is a real person. Every time we go over there, she has the cat dressed up in this little sweater that says
PRINCESS KITTY
on the front
.
This aunt of mine wouldn’t be caught dead giving
her cat Kitty Fritters. She says that Kitty Fritters taste like rubber I’d hate to think that my aunt has actually tasted Kitty Fritters herself, but how else would she know? My mother says that my aunt has a screw loose somewhere
.
Anyway, I think you should keep on making Kitty Fritters as long as there are people like my mother, who don’t think cats mind eating rubber.
THE END
After I finished writing my comments, I went to the closet and took the bag of Kitty Fritters off the bottom shelf. I turned to the back of the bag and read the rest of the directions. It said:
COMPLETE THIS SENTENCE:
MY CAT EATS KITTY FRITTERS BECAUSE …
Then print your name and address on the entry
blank enclosed in this bag. Mail your entry to:
KITTY FRITTERS TV CONTEST
P.O. Box 2343
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19103
I dug down into the bag, trying to find the entry blank, but I couldn’t feel it anywhere. I tried again, reaching into the other side this time. But still no luck.
Finally, I got so frustrated, I dumped the entire twenty-five-pound bag of cat food out onto the kitchen floor. Even then, I must have sifted through about a million fritters before I found the stupid thing.
At last, I put it on the table and began to fill it out.
NAME : Alex Frankovitch
ADDRESS : 2567 Delaney Street
CITY : Phoenix STATE : Arizona ZIP : 85000
Just as I finished up, I heard the cat scratching at the door. I figured she had probably smelled the odor of fritters all the way down the block.
“Go away, Fluffy!” I shouted. “You can’t eat right now. I’m busy!”
I had to get the cat food mess cleaned up before my mother got home.
“Alex Frankovitch! You open this door!” shouted Fluffy.
Fluffy? Fluffy was
talking
now?
No … wait! It was my
mother!
I hurried to let her in.
“Why were you scratching?” I asked as she hurried past me.
It was a stupid question. She was carrying two bags of groceries.
“I wasn’t
scratching
, Alex,” she answered. “I was trying to open the door with my foot.”
After putting the groceries on the counter, my mother spotted the millions of little fritters scattered all over the floor. All things considered, I think she took it pretty well.
“Been fixing yourself a little snack?” she asked dryly.
I had to think fast. Basically, there were two ways of handling this situation. First, I could try to get her to laugh the whole thing off. If that failed, I would move on to Plan B: Blame It on Fluffy.
“Snack? What snack?” I asked. “I haven’t been fixing a snack.”
“I mean all those Kitty Fritters, Alex,” she snapped. “I mean that huge mess all over the floor.”
I looked around. “Floor? What floor?” I asked.
This was where the laughing was supposed to start. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Mom glared.
“I’m waiting,” she said.
On to Plan B …
“Oh
… those
Kitty Fritters!” I said, pointing. “Well, you’re not going to believe this, Mom, but I was in the other room watching TV, when all of a sudden I heard this loud crash in the kitchen. I ran inhere just in time to see Fluffy sprinting out the back door. That’s when I looked down and saw this giant mess of fritters all over the floor.”
My mother crossed her arms. She didn’t say anything for a
ME AND THE KID WITH THE WOODEN NOSE
MY CAT EATS KITTY FRITTERS BECAUSE …
If she didn’t eat Kitty Fritters, she would die of starvation
.
Kitty Fritters is the only cat food my mother will buy. She buys it because she says it’s cheap. She says she doesn’t care how it tastes, or what it’s made out of. My mother is not the kind of person who believes that an animal is a member of the family. She is one of those people who thinks a cat is just a cat
.
I have an aunt who thinks that her cat is a real person. Every time we go over there, she has the cat dressed up in this little sweater that says
PRINCESS KITTY
on the front
.
This aunt of mine wouldn’t be caught dead giving
her cat Kitty Fritters. She says that Kitty Fritters taste like rubber I’d hate to think that my aunt has actually tasted Kitty Fritters herself, but how else would she know? My mother says that my aunt has a screw loose somewhere
.
Anyway, I think you should keep on making Kitty Fritters as long as there are people like my mother, who don’t think cats mind eating rubber.
THE END
After I finished writing my comments, I went to the closet and took the bag of Kitty Fritters off the bottom shelf. I turned to the back of the bag and read the rest of the directions. It said:
COMPLETE THIS SENTENCE:
MY CAT EATS KITTY FRITTERS BECAUSE …
Then print your name and address on the entry
blank enclosed in this bag. Mail your entry to:
KITTY FRITTERS TV CONTEST
P.O. Box 2343
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19103
I dug down into the bag, trying to find the entry blank, but I couldn’t feel it anywhere. I tried again, reaching into the other side this time. But still no luck.
Finally, I got so frustrated, I dumped the entire twenty-five-pound bag of cat food out onto the kitchen floor. Even then, I must have sifted through about a million fritters before I found the stupid thing.
At last, I put it on the table and began to fill it out.
NAME : Alex Frankovitch
ADDRESS : 2567 Delaney Street
CITY : Phoenix STATE : Arizona ZIP : 85000
Just as I finished up, I heard the cat scratching at the door. I figured she had probably smelled the odor of fritters all the way down the block.
“Go away, Fluffy!” I shouted. “You can’t eat right now. I’m busy!”
I had to get the cat food mess cleaned up before my mother got home.
“Alex Frankovitch! You open this door!” shouted Fluffy.
Fluffy? Fluffy was
talking
now?
No … wait! It was my
mother!
I hurried to let her in.
“Why were you scratching?” I asked as she hurried past me.
It was a stupid question. She was carrying two bags of groceries.
“I wasn’t
scratching
, Alex,” she answered. “I was trying to open the door with my foot.”
After putting the groceries on the counter, my mother spotted the millions of little fritters scattered all over the floor. All things considered, I think she took it pretty well.
“Been fixing yourself a little snack?” she asked dryly.
I had to think fast. Basically, there were two ways of handling this situation. First, I could try to get her to laugh the whole thing off. If that failed, I would move on to Plan B: Blame It on Fluffy.
“Snack? What snack?” I asked. “I haven’t been fixing a snack.”
“I mean all those Kitty Fritters, Alex,” she snapped. “I mean that huge mess all over the floor.”
I looked around. “Floor? What floor?” I asked.
This was where the laughing was supposed to start. Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Mom glared.
“I’m waiting,” she said.
On to Plan B …
“Oh
… those
Kitty Fritters!” I said, pointing. “Well, you’re not going to believe this, Mom, but I was in the other room watching TV, when all of a sudden I heard this loud crash in the kitchen. I ran inhere just in time to see Fluffy sprinting out the back door. That’s when I looked down and saw this giant mess of fritters all over the floor.”
My mother crossed her arms. She didn’t say anything for a
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