Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,
I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football,
I think I'm gonna die,T
ell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?
Someone took a grapefruit and wore it like a hat,
I saw someone under my kitchen table,
talking to my old tom cat,
They were talking about hockey and the cat was talkin' back,
Along about then everything went black,
But wasn't that a party?
I'm sure it's just my memory playin' tricks on me,
But I think I saw my buddy cuttin' down my neighbour's tree,
Could have been the whiskey,
might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,
I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football,
I think I'm gonna die,Tell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?
Someone took a grapefruit and wore it like a hat,
I saw someone under my kitchen table, talking to my old tom cat,T
hey were talking about hockey and the cat was talkin' back,
Along about then everything went black,
But wasn't that a party?
I'm sure it's just my memory playin' tricks on me,
But I think I saw my buddy cuttin' down my neighbour's tree,
Old Billy Joe and Tommy, well they went a little far,
They were sitting in my backyard blowing on the siren in somebody's police car.
So you see, your honour,It was all in fun,
That little bitty track meet down on main street,
Was just to see if the cops could run,
Well, they run us in to see you,In an alcoholic haze,
I can sure use those thirty days to recover from the party.
Could have been the whiskey, might have been the gin.
Could have been three or four six-packs,I don't know, but look at the mess I'm in,
My head is like a football, I think I'm gonna die,T
ell me, me oh me oh my,
Wasn't that a party?
Someone took a grapefruit and wore it like a hat,
I saw someone under my kitchen table, talking to my old tom cat,
They were talking about hockey and the cat was talkin' back,
Along about then everything went black,
But wasn't that a party?
I'm sure it's just my memory playin' tricks on me,
But I think I saw my buddy cuttin' down my neighbour's tree,
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Thomas R Paxton / Tom Paxton
Wasn’t That a Party lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
C.: Oh my head, my stomach, my paws and legs and everything else. I wonder why I’m in the vet clinic? The board at the foot of my bed says that it’s Sunday, January 7, 2024. I know that I usually read my best human friends manuscript for his autobiographical story about training for and competing in an Ironman distance triathlon on Sundays, but I have no idea what chapter I’m on. Nor do I know where my computer or phone are, or what happened last night. I hope that I didn’t relapse and start eating catnip again, but I can’t be sure. If I did, it must have been one heck of a party!
I remember talking to Meow Z. Tongue, the Supreme Ruler of the Cat Galaxy, and then going next door to d.c.’s house to get something… I wonder if he had some catnip hidden from his wife, Eudora. He might not want her to know that he’s imbibing in such a sinister substance. Maybe I found his stash and relapsed. I might have “bitten off more than I could chew.”
But wait, d.c.’s not a cat, he’s a human. Catnip would neither taste good to him, nor would it give him any pleasure, like it formally did me when I was eating it obsessively. Then, when I got thrown into The Kennel by my mom and dad, I went cold turkey and quit eating catnip altogether. That was Mom and Dad’s intent, and it worked. Also, I met the one human on this cat-forsaken planet that speaks and understands Catonese. d.c. is a nurse at The Kennel on the human and the animal side. He told me to keep quiet, or I might be experimented on if others knew that I could talk. I didn’t tell him my true mission, why I was sent to earth. It was to gather information on humans to send back to Meow Z. Tongue so that he could devise a plan to destroy the earth after commandeering all of its natural resources to power the Planet of the Talking Cats when it runs out of energy in one million catnaps (or was it one billion? I could only count to two until recently, when I stared at a container of Orange Juice that said “concentrate” on it for ten hours. I think that may be why my husband, the heavy cat fighting champion of the world in five different categories: Tucker Tucker Two, a.k.a. the Cat Fighter Formerly Known as The Tuxedo (who really needs a shorted nickname) Now Simply Known as T Because Triple T Was Already Taken’s intent. He’s a very intelligent cat, even though he’s been thrown into The Kennel so many times for crimes that the warden retired his number. He used his time in The Kennel wisely, though. He took advanced obedience school classes while he was incarcerated. He now has a doctorate degree in playing and hiding, and I think that he wanted to be able to carry on a conversation with his new wife. It worked. He took my test for me, and I now have my obedience school degree). Hmm. If I can remember all of this, why can’t I remember what happened to me last night? Why can’t I remember why I’m in the veterinary hospital, and why I feel so bad?
Oh, there’s d.c. There must be a break in the football games he and his son were watching.
“Hi, d.c., did your team win?”
d.: They did, and then the former Houston team won. And, just like that, the Houston Texans won their division.
C.: That’s great! Now, could you kindly tell me what happened to me last night?
d.: Sure, Cal.E., I’d be glad to…
Ladies and gentlemen, (and nonbinary individuals), we interrupt this blog to bring you a rerun of the movie “Bambi.”