“The Evil Sucking Machine” by Patrichia, Pawline, and Lamont Cranston

Stretching out to his full ruggedly-handsome coal black physique and digging his claws into the carpets while listening to NPR softly playing in the background, Lamont remarked to his sisters, “You know we have a pretty good life out here in the Schackteau.”

“Ummmm, yes,” meowed Pawline as she pawed the rope on the catstack sharpening her claws and sniffing for any remnants of catnip, “It is good indeed. Tasty food, especially those that have gravy in the evening.”

“Uh huh,” chimed in Patrichia as she groomed herself on the scratching tower. “I especially like the brushing the lady furless one gives us each evening; I really really like it when she rubs my cheeks.”

“Oh yes indeed!” chimed in both Pawline and Lamont. “Brushing, petting and tummy rubs. The furless ones are really good at that.”

 “Definitely!” continued Pawline, “in fact, I have thought of renaming myself Pawleen after the furless lady, who we now know as a name – Doreen.”

“We have lots of bounding about room. I think I can make the Schacteau dash in 2.2 seconds now. Life is cushy as it should be for such felines as ourselves.”

Patchtrica, the smallest of the feline threesome, pondered a bit and the ominously added, “True, except when the male furless one, ooo or Hugh I believe is his name. Periodically his dark side comes out and he turns truly evil and brings out one those malevolent sucking machine monsters, sticks its long tail into a wall socket, flips a switch and it begins making an infernal noise. He then runs it around the whole place as we dash to places of safety less we get sucked up by the vile and nasty implement of destruction. And when he finally quits all our little tasty tidbits on the floors but other things have disappeared. I fear they lie in the bowels of the creature of the underworld.”

“Tis True dear sister,” said Lamont. “I must admit that even I, ruggled handsome as I am, a fearless upon almost all occasions (Patchtricia and Pawline rolls their eyes) even seek safety in some corner during that raucous nasty implement of destruction. But my fraidy cat sister, Pawline after I came out after he parked it in the row of those apparatuses because food and petting and brushing were afoot. The male furless one had to drag you out of hiding places two times before you consented to your usual petting, brushing and eating.”

note on the left is the "Dirt Devil" in demonic red

“Okay, okay,” replied Patchtricia, “But I still hate that evil sucking machine that invades our peaceful Garden of Eden. One of them even has inscribed on in ‘Dirt Devil’. I leave you to draw the obvious conclusion, it is an implement of demonic proportions.”