"I remember seeing mice in the Malone House cafeteria"

The President of the War on Terror sat at the lip of my litter box and dangled his glassine, pointed legs. His eyes watered. He didn't blink.

"Walter Reed Army Hospital is filled with lice and bugs," I said, "and you're grazing at the lip of my litter box."

"You don't understand, Shimmy. I need that copy of the Constitution your cousin Winter mailed you."

"Tammy Duckworth wouldn't eat in the Walter Reed Army Hospital cafeteria because of the mice. I crunch their rancorous bones. All you had to do was ask."

"It's complicated. What to say to the Constitution." My whiff of his pant legs -- a disappointing meadow bland with cows. "Where's that Constitution? I need it."

"Tammy Duckworth lost her legs because of you. You could've asked me to eat the mice running in the kitchen walls of the Malone House cafeteria, where she learned to live without the legs you took away from her."

"Iran, you know. It's evil, a bad daddy. We're more likely to succeed with success as opposed to failure. Does Trish have the Constitution? I really need it."

"You infantilized this whole country. Or you'd be clearing brush in Texas."

I licked my right paw and washed my forehead. Everything tastes like Enacard. A sack with catnip trapped in it hides under the rug or the couch or loveseat. Maybe the ottoman.

"The war on terror involves Saddam Hussein," the President of the War on Terror said, "because of the nature of Saddam Hussein, the history of Saddam Hussein, and his willingness to terrorize himself. We killed him and destroyed the cell phone cameras in Iraq so you'd be safer."

"Electricity comes out of holes in my wall. Why do scientists hate America?"

"Sometimes I wish I never was born, Shimmy. Or maybe born a turtle instead of a little boy."

"Eat your barbecue and shut your mouth!