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Mr. Glee: So that's the story. A short time later the kittens were born. There were six plus six plus six of them, and Jim Traipsey named the whole litter *"The Evil",* after his mother. And we've been taking care of them ever since. -- Mr. Glee: So you see, that's why Satan's kittens cannot be responsible for all the killings! Not a night goes by that my wife and I don't put out saucers of milk for them, as per Satan's request. Mrs. Glee: And they're healthier, since it's not real milk! -- Mr. Glee: **WHAT?!?** Mrs. Glee: I just switched us to soy-milk last week! Totally non-dairy! (Not just soy-milk: "Happy Cow Soy <heart> Milk") -- Mrs. Glee: Alicia Silverstone recommends it! Mr. Glee: Dag-double-nabit. | Flag | ||||
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-- Mr. Glee (narrating): We'd get together every Tuesday and Thursday for our Satanic cult meetings. Mainly an excuse ta drink beer, go bowling, and sacrifice small critters. Opposing Bowling Team Member #1: "The Satanic Five" are cheating again! I used to be the best bowler in the state! Then they sprayed me in the eyes with goat's blood and now I see dead people! Opposing Bowling Team Member #2: I haven't been able to pick up a spare since developing these open sores on my back! Jon Traipsey: Oh, wonk, wonk, wonk! Jim Traipsey: I forsee [sic: should be "foresee"] a strike! YIPPY SKIPPY! Sheriff Ken Bugahf: Thanks to devil worshipping [sic: should be "worshiping" (American vs. British spelling)], the regional bowling trophy will be *ours!* Mr. Glee: Mrs. Glee, could ya get us another round of beers and two live chickens? Mrs. Glee: Yes, Mr. Glee! -- Mr. Glee (narrating): We would not have believed the Devil himself would pay us a visit, but he gave signs of his comin'. Undeniable *horrible* signs. Mrs. Glee (with the Windows logo on her forehead): Dear, I have the mark of Satan's concubine on my forehead! He'll be coming for me so that I might sire his son! Mr. Glee: *Dag-nabit!* (Mrs. Glee is reading a book titled "A Woman's Guide to Satanic Forehead Markings" and Mr. Glee is reading a book titled "Satanic Soup for the Soulless") -- Torg: You used to say "dag-nabit" as a greaser in the fifties? Mrs. Glee: I think Mr. Glee was *born* crotchety, young man. Mr. Glee: **YA WANT TA HEAR THIS STORY OR WHAT?** Bert: **Did someone say "CROTCH"?** -- Mr. Glee (narrating): That night he came to our door. I was face to face with the devil himself. It was as if the shadows themselves rushed to his side and clinged to him like drunk bimbos at one of those new-fangled heavy metal concerts! Damn devil-music! -- Mr. Glee (narrating): He didn't seem ta take to our initial attempts to please him. Sign: Welcome to the Neighborhood, Satan! Mrs. Glee: Deviled eggs? Satan: God, I hate those. -- Mr. Glee (narrating): But, after a few drinks, he loosened up a bit. Satan: Yeah, I sire a new kid or two every hundred years or so, but none of them are the right one, you know! It is like you mortal humans are not strong enough! Excellent Jello-mold, Jon! Jon Traipsey: The secret's in the mold! -- Jim Traipsey: Humans are overrated! I like my cat, "Snuggles" better than any human! (Sheriff) Ken Bugahf: Yeah, Devil! Why don't you try siring a son with the cat? Satan: Oh, yes. That is really going to happen. Jon Traipsey: A feline child of Satan! Cats are devious predators as it is! Mix that with pure evil and even I am daunted! -- Mr. Glee: And a cat'd provide ya with a litter! A whole army to subjugate the world! Satan: Devious, you say? An army. Hmmm. (Sheriff) Ken Bugahf: Plus they come with sharp teeth and claws! *Ar!* I'm *Satan-Cat!* The earth is my litter box... *from hell!* Satan: You guys! Quit goofing! -- Mr. Glee (narrating): The party continued and got rowdier into the night. I only have one vague memory. There was the chanting ... and the *dare!* -- Satan worshipers: **CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT!** Satan: Oh, do not you guys dare me, for I will do it! Mr. Glee: I dare ya! Satan: Oh, you are in trouble now, because I am going to! Mr. Glee: *Double-dog dare you!* Satan: *Oh boy, are you in trouble! Oh man!* -- Mr. Glee (narrating): Not sure what happened that night, but the whole dark ritual with Mrs. Glee was cancelled [sic: should be "canceled"] the next day, and the Devil called us forth. I think our souls would've been damned on the spot, 'cept for the Devil's embarrassment. -- Satan: And now my charge to you, foolish people of Wispydale. My new children are useless to me... Jim Traipsey: Children? ???? *What* children? Satan: I do not wish to talk about it. Mrs. Glee: How was the party last night, Satan? Satan: I do not wish to talk about it. -- Satan: My children are useless to me, but will be a blight on any who cross their paths when they are born. If you do not appease them... say, with a saucer of milk each night? ... the kittens will come out to play, and *none* of you will escape alive! Jon Traipsey: "Give the kittens milk or we die?" That's it? I'm a little disappointed! Satan: Cut me some slack! I am hungover and just ... I do not wish to talk about it. -- Mr. Glee (narrating): Then, he grabbed two Aspirins, a cup of Joe, and headed off. And we never saw him again. Or Joe. Joe (sitting in a large cup, carried by Satan): **HALP!** Label: Joe -- Torg: What ever happened to your poor cat, Snuggles? Mr. Glee: Poor *cat?* Way I hears it, it was her who dumped him! For an ad executive from the Meow-Mix commercials. I don't think the Devil ever got over that one. | Flag | ||||
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Dr. Haught-Sheik: *The name is Dr. Haught-Sheik!* -- Dr. Haught-Sheik (pointing at Mr. Glee): I'm through fooling around. Unless you want F.E.M.A., the National Guard, and every big-shot I can muster breathing down your necks, you better just tell me what the *hell* is going on with these kittens! The *short* version! -- Mr. Glee: The kittens are the children of the Devil. Me and a bunch of my fellow Satan-worshippers tend to 'em. And now some imposter kittens are attackin' people to get Satan's kids in trouble, and *I aims ta know why!* Mrs. Glee: Poor little kids of Satan! -- (Dr. Haught-Sheik, Torg, and Bert are sitting down (apparently) on thin air; Mr. Glee has boxer shorts with smiley faces but no pants) Dr. Haught-Sheik: OK, let's try the long version. | Flag | ||||
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Zoë: Fay deserved better than to die like that! We all do! Angela: The way they took Dex's arm! Then they *chose* him to die! They're just playing with us now! Torg and Bert would have been back by now if... If......... -- (Zoë and Angela hug) Zoë: Don't you even *say* Torg's dead! *Don't you say it!* Angela: *I don't want to die!* Max: Hey Flaky, things are getting emotional here! You're psychic! How about predicting a happy future for us? -- Flaky: I can't see beyond my own fate! And my own fate is... *Nooooooooooooo!* /**GOD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO**/ -- Max: (*)sigh(*). Very uplifting, Flaky! There, there, you two. Everything's going to be all right! (Max hugs both girls) <***HUG!***> -- Zoë (arms folded, glaring at Max): Max, get your hands off our butts. Max (removing his hands): Well there goes the old "vulnerable chicks are easy" theory! | Flag | ||||
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Kittens: **mew. mew. mew. mew.** -- Zoë: We're fine! The kittens are keeping away from the water. We're safe as long as we stay in the shower stall. -- (Angela, Zoë and Max soak miserably under the shower) -- Angela: Are we going to have to stay here forever? This is a nightmare! Max: For me, personally, sharing a shower with two beautiful women pretty much completes my life long dream! | Flag | ||||
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Torg: We called you back to find out the truth behind these kittens, and a way to stop them! Mr. Glee: *Pipe down, sonny!* -- Mrs. Glee: You don't need to ask the sheriff about that! Mr. Glee and myself can tell you all about the kittens! Dr. Haught-Shiek: That's *right!* The sheriff sent me here to ask you about it! Torg: Then *why the hell* did we waste time making contact with this guy? -- Mr. Glee: *humph!* -- Sheriff: **You want me to fix another parking ticket for you, don't you.** Mr. Glee: The front of the video store is a *dang* stupid place to put a fire hydrant, *dag-nabit!* | Flag | ||||
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Mr. Glee: /*Words, of the Glees, command, to the weak! Listen, oh Bugahf, listen, and speak!*/ -- Dr. Haught-Shiek: I don't know what's more disgusting. Foraging for the sheriff's tongue, ears, and various other parts, or Mr. Glee nailing them to the floor so he can communicate with the dead! Bert: *I FOUND HIS CROTCH!* -- Dr. Haught-Shiek: OK, that guy wins for most disgusting, and would you quit pacing? Torg: There's more than one kitten! We have to get back to my friends! And I'm not exactly sure I *want* to know what news the dead would have for the living! -- Sheriff: **AiEYAiEYAiEYAAAAAA** Torg: Oh, *this* bodes well for life-after-death! Mr. Glee: Yer standin' on his *tongue!* You horn-fried dung-beetle! -- Torg: *GAH!* Eeew! Sheriff: **Good Lord, what's that guy been walking through? Bleah! Bleck!** | Flag | ||||
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-- Angela: Flaky, it's *working!* The kittens are playing with the balls of yarn and ignoring us! <**PLAY!**> <**BAT!**> <**BAT!**> -- Zoë: OK, they're occupied, but playing too close to the rifle, and it'll take time and a crowbar to pry the boards off the door or windows! Angela: *The bathroom!* -- Angela (beating on the door): Max ran in here ahead of us and *locked the door!* <**BAM! BAM! BAM!**> Zoë: Max, you back-stabbing bastard! Unlock the door! -- Angela: He locked us out here to *die!* They're getting bored of the yarn! Zoë (now beating on the door): *Max, you coward!* <**BAM**> -- <**>FLUSH<**> Max: Sorry, I've had to go for hours! Wow, you chicks really *do* always go in pairs! You can borrow my Reader's Digest if you want but don't lose my bookmark! | Flag | ||||
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Comic Title: SLUGGY FREELANCE PRESENTS | KITTEN -- Max: That's it. The perimeter is locked up tight. We're safe. Zoë: It doesn't make any sense. You know how quick those kittens are. Why would they let us board them out? Dex: We just monopolized on their mistake. Zoë: Dex? -- Flaky: *Dex?!* Where did you get those guns? Dex: Packed them. Thought Max and I'd do a little hunting! Max: Dex-man! You were going to surprise me! -- Flaky: Those weapons aren't legal for hunting! They're not even *legal!* Max: I think they're perfect for hunting kittens. -- Zoë (bandaging Angela's ankle): Well, I've got to admit, I feel safer now. So why do *you* look so scared, Angela? Angela: What you said about it not making sense for the kittens to leave us alone... What if they were waiting for us to box ourselves in? -- Kitten: mew. (Angela's turns her head in horror) -- Zoë (sweating and terrified): Everyone, back away from the front door. Max: It's game time, Dex-man! -- Kittens: mew. mew. mew. mew. Flaky: Sounds like they're twenty feet away, that way. -- Kitten: *mew.* Flaky: Fifteen feet. -- Kittens: *mew.* *mew.* Flaky: Ten feet! Max: That's impossible! That's inside the cabin! -- Kitten: **mew.** Flaky: Five. Max: The loft? -- (They wait in silent anticipation) -- Dex: **ARRRGH!** Kittens: **mew.** **mew.** **mew.** **mew.** **mew.** <***CRASH!***> -- Dex: *You want some? Huh? Take that! You want some too?* Kitten: **mew.** <**BRAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!**> -- <**BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA**> Zoë and Angela: *DEX!* Dex: ***YEAAAAH!*** Kittens: **mew. mew.** <***GLITch!***> -- Flaky: *Up here!* In the *loft!* Kittens can't climb ladders! -- Angela: Flaky, we *can't!* They've turned the ladder into a *scratching* post! Kitten (between Angela and the ladder): **mew.** Dex (dropping his gun): I can make the jump! <***JUMP!***> -- <****WHUMP!****> (Max lands on the floor, right in front of a kitten) -- <**Scramble!**> Kitten: **mew.** -- (Angela, Zoë, Max, the rifle, and the remains of Dex, surrounded by kittens in a circle, with Flaky looking down from the loft) Angela: Poor Dex. Max: Poor *US!* We're dead. Kitten: **mew.** | Flag | ||||
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Mr. Glee: *Freeze!* Sneaking in the back door of my store, eh? -- Torg: Sorry, mister! We didn't know what door it was! We need to use your phone! Mr. Glee: Why should I letcha? Torg: My friends,... some are dead... but some are hurt! I need a doctor! Dr. Haught-Shiek (off panel): I'm a doctor! -- Mr. Glee: *Dag-nabit!* Why the hell's my store *Grand Damn Station* all of the sudden? Dr. Haught-Shiek: I'm sorry to intrude, Mr. Glee, but the sheriff sent me here to talk with you two. Mrs. Glee: She says the Traipseys are *dead,* dear! And the *The Evil* is loose! Mr. Glee: The Evil ain't loose! We been done seeing to that for decades! -- Torg: If you don't think evil is loose around here, you should have seen that *kitten!* -- Mr. Glee: Kitten? That's impossible! I've gotta talk to the sheriff! Dr. Haught-Shiek: Well, last I checked, there's a couple of pieces of him on your front lawn. Mr. Glee: I just need an *ear* to talk to him. *Did you see an ear, DAG-NABIT?* Dr. Haught-Shiek: Crotchety *and* creepy. I've got to move out of this town. | Flag | ||||
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Sheriff: No, we can't. Dr. Haught-Shiek: Why not? Sheriff (sweating): Because we're being hunted. -- Dr. Haught-Shiek: oh god. Sheriff: From the bushes straight ahead... it's all right. Dr. Haught-Shiek: The hell it is. -- Sheriff: *Run!* Towards the store! I've got her. *Go! /NOW!/* -- (The sheriff aims his gun) <**RUSTLE! RUSTLE!**> -- (A kitten appears from the side, instead of 'straight ahead') Kitten: *mew.* Sheriff (looking at the kitten): Clever girl. -- Sheriff: **YEAAARG!!!!!!!!!** <**slash!**> <**crash!**> <**smash!**> (The sheriff's hat flies up in the air, and the panel is splashed with red) | Flag | ||||
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-- Zoë: *Oh my God* there's more of them! Angela: **KITTENS!** Max: *Barricade the door!* (Max and Zoë rush the table that Dex is strapped onto to the door) Dex: *uh...?* -- <**SLAM!**> (Dex's table is shoved into the doorway) Dex: ...guys?... *Guys!* **GUYS!** Kittens: *mew.* *mew.* -- <***FLIP!***> (The table is turned around) Max: Sorry man! Had to snap the legs off the table before we could flip it around. Dex: *whimper* | Flag | ||||
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Max: *Not* if the real killer is in this room! It could even be you, Fay! -- <***YANK!***> (Fay is pulled out the door) -- <****GLITCH!****> (Fay's glasses fly into the room; followed by a spray of blood) -- Zoë: **FAY!?! NO!!!** Max: Well, maybe not Fay. -- Max: OK, I have another theory on what could be helping the kitten kill people. 5 kittens (sitting at the entryway): **mew. mew. mew. mew. mew.** | Flag | ||||
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Zoë (applying a compress to Dex's head): _grrrrrr_ Max: What a vacation! Smit and Cindy are dead. My best bud Dex is dying. And I've been running around all night with a rock stuck in my shoe! <***WAP***> (In the background, Fay is reaching for the cupboard) -- Fay (off panel): **REGGIE!?!** (Reggie's head falls out of the cupboard) <***THUD!***> -- Flakey: **WHAT?** Fay: **OH NO! IT GOT REGGIE!** -- Max: *Wait a minute*! If the kitten is up in the tree, how did Reggie's head get planted in the cupboard? -- Max: **Unless the /REAL/ killer is one of us!** --- Comic Footer: Due to manipulative head-games, this comic may not be suitable for all audiences. | Flag | ||||
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-- Everyone but Dex (running away from each other and the kitten): ***YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!*** Kitten: **mew.** Dex: *help... me...* -- Bun-Bun: Those poor, poor bastards. -- Zoë: My God, what *is* that thing? Torg: *Where did it go?* Fay: *It's after Angela!* Max: *Get out of its reach, Angela! Climb that tree! Hurry!* -- (Fay glares at Max) Max: *What?* Cats can't climb trees! -- Max: *Oh, wait,* that's *dogs!* -- (Angela climbs for three panels, each panel focusing closer up on her terror-stricken face) -- Title Panel (on red-stained black): Sluggy Freelance presents... | Kitten -- (Angela is clinging to the end of a tipping tree branch. On the other end...) Kitten: **mew.** <KRIK> -- <**>snap<**> <***CRASH!***> (Angela's end of the branch breaks off) -- Bun-Bun: While it's true, kittens can climb trees, they can't always climb down! -- Kitten: **mew?** -- Zoe: I think it's stuck! Angela: I think I sprained my ankle! Dex: *...guys? ...help?* Max: *Dex-man!* -- Angela: He's going into shock! Zoë: *He's dying!* Max: We've *got* to get him to a doctor! But all we have is Bert's moped! -- Flaky: We need to reach a phone to call an ambulance! Fay: That general store must have a phone! Torg (riding behind Bert on the moped): *We're there!* We'll be back in a flash with help! -- Zoë: *He's convulsing!* Fay: *Strap him to the table in the cabin!* Angela (leaning on Fay): *Elevate his legs!* Max: *Get me 10 cc's of Budweiser, stat!* -- Bun-Bun: So I guess that ends *this* comic... -- Bun-Bun: Well, since we have the extra space, here's an outtake from the cutting room floor: one of the punchlines that didn't make it. --- Dex (across both panels): ****AAAAAAAAAAARGH!*** (*) - (A sketchy sketch of an agonized Dex...) - Zoë: I said check *his pockets* for a cell-phone. Max: I distinctly heard you say the words "the socket"! -- Bun-Bun: *Yeesh!* Thank God we cut *that* joke out! | Flag | ||||
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Dex (pointing at the kitten): Torg, do you *really* expect us to believe this kitten *kills people?* -- <****CHOMP****> -- Dex: ***YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!*** Kitten: **mew.** (Dex is missing an arn, and Torg has leapt into Max's arms...) === Comic Footer: Due to graphic depictions of disarmament, this comic may not be suitable for all audiences. | Flag | ||||
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Zoë: Dex, you spend so much time talking about Torg. Are you sure you don't want him up there with you? Dex: As long as Torg doesn't burst in the cabin screaming, I promise you he'll be the last thing on our minds. -- Torg (off panel; outside): /**They're dead! Cindy and Smit are dead! Everyone!!!**/ Dex: *I'm going to kick Torg's ass!* Zoë: Torg's covered in blood! This isn't a joke! -- Zoë: *Torg! What is it?* Fay: What happened? Angela: Cindy and Smit are *dead?* -- Kitten: **mew.** (Torg looks terrified) -- Torg (pointing at the kitten): /**It was the kitten that killed them! Keep away from the kitten!**/ Zoë: Feel free to kick Torg's butt now. Dex: Grrrr === Transcriber's note: I'm not sure whether it's relevant or not, but Zoë is wearing a shirt with a diamond on it -- on this night of all nights.... | Flag | ||||
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Torg (covered in blood): OK, let's all split up and go for help! -- (Everyone (Torg, Bert, Max and Reggie) starts to run in different directions...) -- (Torg jumps over a branch...) -- (Everyone is running in the same direction after all...) Max: We're all heading for the cabin anyway, why the hell would we want to split up? Torg: Hey, you're right! That *does* sound stupid! It just seemed like the right thing to do in this situation. Bert: **BAH!** | Flag | ||||
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Max: We finally lost it! Torg: That was no ordinary kitten! *We're all gonna die!* Max: Man, we've got to get to the cabin. Torg: *But the van is toast! We're stuck!* Max: Get a grip, Torg-man! -- (Max and Torg catch their breath and get a grip...) <**HUFF!**> <**PUFF!**> <*Huff!*> <*Puff!*> <**RELAXXXXXX.....**> -- (Bert leans into frame, terrifying Torg and Max) Bert: *****WAZZUP!?!?***** Torg and Max: /***AAAAAH!***/ -- Max: *God dammit, Bert!* Torg: Bert! You scared the heck out of me! Bert: **YOU THINK I'M SCARY? HAVE YOU HEARD REGGIE'S APPRECIATION FOR THE ART OF DALI?** Reggie: *Wait!* Did you mean dolly as in "dolls"? or as in "Dolly Parton"? | Flag | ||||
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Torg: What's after you? -- Cindy: **THE KITTEN!** <***SLASH!***> -- Max: *Dude!* I always wanted to see Cindy topless! Kitten: **mew.** (Cindy's lower half is freestanding) Torg (holding Cindy's upper half): *AAAAH! Quick! Do you know CPR?!?* -- Max (running away): Sorry about that "topless" comment. Poor taste, I know. Speaking of things that taste poorly... Torg (running away): Keep your "CPR" jokes to yourself! (off-panel) <**CHOMP**> <**CHEW**> <**SLASH!**> Kitten (off-panel): **mew.** (Cindy's arm is tossed into the panel) | Flag |
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