Chapter 1: A brief description of my life, and a portal.
Hello. My name is, as this chapter suggests, Grumpy Cat. You might know me from the pictures on the internet. I hate writing, so I hope that makes you feel miserable. I live in a house. It smells, and I don’t like it. My owner likes me. I don’t really like my owner. I think it’s good to hate things, it’s much better than enjoying yourself. My owner never gives me what I want. She pretends that she can’t understand me, and whenever I ask for something, she strokes my fur and calls me a “good kitty”. I am not a “good kitty”. My owner once took a photograph of me and put it on the internet, and then someone put text over it which said “I had fun once. I hated it”. This is most definitely not true. I have never even begun to enjoy myself in my entire life.
So since then, my name changed from “Tardar Sauce” to “Grumpy cat”. This is because of the fact that I have an under bite, so I look like I’m unhappy all the time. In actual fact, I am REALLY unhappy all the time. The only time I am happy is when I see other people being unhappy. I would laugh at this, but my mouth doesn’t make that shape. Since the purpose of this chapter is to tell you about my life, I should probably make a list of all the things I hate. I hate writing, so this list will be short.
A basic list of things I hate:
- People that think I’m male. I’m a female. Humans are stupid.
-Everything.
There we go. That’s all you need to know about me. Unless you want to hear about how I was born, or how I became grumpy, but that will entertain you more, so I won’t.
But one thing I will tell you, is that two days ago, I got sucked into a horrifying, terrifying, abysmal hellhole. The disturbingly bright coloured inhabitants of this terrifying realm referred to it as “Equestria”. UGH.
It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. I hate Tuesday afternoons. The only part of the day I can even begin to like is when I am sleeping. Anyway, I was sitting in the living room, being tortured by my owner. She calls this horrific method of torture “petting” and it involves her cuddling me and stroking my fur affectionately. I particularly hate it because she thinks I like it. I don’t.
After she tortured me for about 15 minutes straight, she went into the kitchen to get me some food. She still doesn’t realise I don’t like fish. While she was gone, I stared out of the window. I saw a child with a red balloon play outside. She looked like she was really enjoying herself. I began fantasising about popping her red balloon, and watching her cry as I stared blankly at her, secretly enjoying it. Like everything that ever happens to me, I was rudely interrupted by a bright flash of light behind me. I turned around to look at what appeared to be a portal of some kind.
It was circular and looked two dimensional, and to make it worse, it was swirling with all the colours of the rainbow. I walked away from it, I hate rainbows. But I began to feel a sucking sensation behind me, and I was being pulled backwards towards the portal. I cried for help, but my stupid owner misinterpreted it to be a call for food. She never was very helpful. After a horrible saga of being pulled backwards, I finally reached the portal, and got sucked through it.
After being spun around and around in some sort of rainbow coloured light tunnel, I saw a bright flash of light and found myself to be in some sort of broom cupboard. I saw the portal to the left of me, and I tried to jump back in it, but it closed before I could, and I hit my head against the cupboard wall with a loud “thump”. I really hate cupboards.
I heard a voice from the beyond the doors of the cupboard. It sounded childish and high pitched.
“Hey, Scootaloo! Did you hear something in the cupboard?”
“Yeah! It sounded like something bumped itself! Let’s go and look!” The one presumably named Scootaloo replied.
I heard them come closer to my cupboard. I really didn’t want them to look in my cupboard, but they would eventually.
The door opened, and I squinted at the bright light. I saw three brightly coloured creatures, who looked to be about 3 feet tall. They looked a bit like fillies.
“Awh, a cute little kitty!”
“Let’s keep him!”
“How in the hay did he get in the cupboard?”
They seemed to be intelligent enough to produce simple speech, I realised.
I really wish they hadn’t found me. The cupboard felt a lot safer.
