FROM: Wm. E. Allendorf
DATE: April 4, 1989
re: Results of Spring Recruitment Drive
A few weeks ago, J.W., our sergeant at arms, was helping me
shovel out the Ashram after the Kickoff Party for the Spring
Recruitment drive. Several cargo-cultists had crashed the event
and removed the wiring from the third floor walls before we could
eject them forcibly through the window. J.W. Had gone up to the
deli for lunch, while I stayed to putty the new glass.
J.W. had just left when I heard a cat yowling in the side yard.
Looking down from the third floor, I saw a young tomcat
attempting to mount the Ashram's cat, Gummer. Gummer is a large
champagne and slate tiger. He is a proud cut; despite neutering,
he still acts the part of the tom, but he appears to other cats
as though he is a female in estrus. Gummer is the eternal
Boy-Named-Sue, and he has lived a frustrating life caught between
genders. It has warped him somewhat, so we keep him chained up to
protect the cat population of the Heights. Gummer was about to
indulge his twisted nature with his favorite game: lure a
tomcat within range and then kill it.
Life is sacred to us, here at the Black Hole Ashram, so rather
than allow the carnage, I reached for the pigeon rifle. I pumped
the 22 cal. air rifle a couple of times--just enough to get the
point across-- and then scoped in on the back haunches of the
other tom. Gummer was lying seductively waiting for the tom to
attempt to mount him, when I squeezed off and sent the tom
packing. Gummer looked up at me with the scoped air rifle in the
window. He shook his head and then sat down and licked his
belly-- the ultimate feline display of disgust.
It was not long before the ding-dong on the next block came over
and said his kid had seen me nail his cat. J.W. listened for a
while and then quietly withdrew, leaving me to handle the matter
diplomatically. I attempted to reason with the man by explaining
Gummer's problem and the fact that the small bruise left from the
pellet was nothing like the little
decapitation-and-disembowelment number that Gummer likes to pull
on unwary suitors. The man would not listen to reason, so I
tried a different tack.
"Yes I shot your cat," I replied. "But do you recognize that your
cat was trespassing in my yard, and harassing my cat with
homosexual overtures? You let your cat run wild to spread
parasites and Feline Leukemia. Your cat has no respect for our
property or our well being. Your cat is acting in a socially
irresponsible matter. I think it would be fitting if I was to
allow Gummer to kill the next socially irresponsible cat he finds
in the yard, and then I will put its head on a pike and display
it for all the other socially irresponsible cats to see. It will
act as a reminder that we, here at the Ashram, to do not
appreciate socially irresponsible cats and their perverted, and
I was about to add something about the fact that socially
irresponsible cats had now passed Feline Leukemia to close to
fifty percent of the county's cat population, when the man
screamed something at me that I did not quite catch. J.W., who
had returned to the yard after a brief stop at the weapons
locker, did catch the epithet. He took it upon himself at that
moment to convince the man to leave. Loading a armor-piercing
round into his recoilless rifle, he fired a warning shot at the
metal lawn chair that was right next to where the man was
standing. It missed, and the man just stood and looked at us
like we were both from another planet. J.W. reloaded, and the
next round sent the chair sailing over the houses and into the
windshield of the man's car which was parked on the next block.
We later found out that the errant first round had passed neatly
through most of the man's house, leaving a trail of havoc before
fragmenting in the living room.
Since this encounter, the neighborhood has become polarized. The
primarily blue-collar element of the Heights has united to push
us out. Fighting has been spirited, but largely indecisive. We
did take a little damage last week from a suicide car-bomb
attack, but most of the action has subsided since J.W. began
search-and-destroy missions on the homes of the real
trouble-makers. We still have continued instances of Ashram
members being hassled on the street with light arms fire.
So goes the Ashram's fight to stop the spread of Feline Leukemia.