This original story did not happen at Christmas. But it is way funny. And now picture everythng happening with Christmas decorations thrown in as everyone, including the cats, enters total chaos.
You are in the kitchen, bottle of half frozen fizzy wine in hand ready to pull the cork when you hear the commotion in the other room. Still carrying the bottle you rush out to check. Distance and angle are just right when the cork shoots out of the bottle, followed by the stream of ice cold, semi frozen liquid to hit the fuzz ball on the top of the tipping tree. Total chaos. Cats, tree, ornaments, the angel, strings of lights flying everywhere. With luck you might get the war zone cleaned up by Christmas Eve. With a lot of luck. Chocolate is my go to for after disaster solace. In this case a LOT of chocolate.
Bugs and The Great Wine Explosion
By Franny Syufy
It all started soooo innocently...
DH and I were strolling down memory lane decided to revist our ill-spent youth by buying a bottle of Asti Spumonte, a sparkling wine that sort of tastes like apples. We wanted it for dinner and DH decided to put it in the freezer...where we promptly forgot about it.
When we got it out of the freezer, it looked pretty frozen. For reasons that can only be described as male, DH decided it to open the bottle just as Bugs, with his back turned to him, decided to eat some kibble half a kitchen away. Before I could yell, "Contents under pressure, you idiot!" DH popped the cork.
Which flew. Across the room. Hitting Bugs on the butt. With considerable force. He levitated four feet vertically into the air — just in time to meet the stream of Asti Spumonte ice winging its way through the air. Mid-air collision: cat, half-frozen wine, DH trying to save cat.
Howls. From Bugs and DH, who catches Bugs, claws first, because they are now fully extended and working with piston-like energy in full getaway mode because DH has the bottle, which is making splurting noises and foaming in an alarming manner, in the other hand . Bugs uses DH's chest as a launching pad and races off in blind panic through the livingroom, showering flecks of wine ice everywhere he goes.
And where does he take cover? In our bed of course, under the duvet, rolling wildly to get the nasty-smelling cold stuff OFF his back. Which meant, of course, that he had to have a bath, because not only is he sticky, but we're concerned that wine just can't be good for brown cats. Although Tum, whom we caught lapping at the pool of melted wine in the kitchen, clearly did not agree, given the protest he made when we locked him downstairs for the duration of clean-up.
Anyways, Bugs, wet and completely disgusted, has banished us to the bench for a prolonged time-out with prejudice. Anybody like a glass of winecicle?
- drunementon
Franny's Note: "the bench" refers to the "Mean Mommy Bench," aka MMB, where forum members are relegated for acts cruel and inhumane toward cats. You'll find one or more of us huddled there at any given time, sharing hot cocoa, ice tea, or wine, depending on the season and our degree of remorse.
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