Curiosity Might've Killed The Cat, But Handguns Kill Six Hundred Million Americans Every Day Day!
And you know when curiosity doesn't kill the cat? When the cat gets curious about a loaded handgun lying on a bureau pointing at a woman making love to a man who is not her husband but is an employee of the gas company. Well, when that cat starts poking and sniffing around the trigger of that handgun to see if it smells like ass, guess who's meter reading is gonna yield a big fat zero (the meter of the guy who works for the gas company who actually knocked on the door to read the woman's gas meter but she suggested they "do it" instead. Or not instead, but before he reads her meter. And I don't mean "read her meter" to be read as a double entendre, even though it would've made a good one). Yep, someone's about to run outta gas (the guy who works for the gas company I mean). I know one little housewife who's about to regret not switching to oil heat (the housewife who's about to be pinned underneath the naked corpse of a gas company employee who's head has recently been caved in at the paws of a cat who's curious about that handgun everyone was talking about a few sentences ago, s'what I'm saying. Also, she'll still have him inside her when he is officially dead. It'll take more than a couple of scalding hot showers before she can wash that memory out of her vaginal canal).
So if you have a cat, be sure to aim the handgun lying on your bureau away from the bed where you and the employee of a utility company are engaged in intercourse. Six hundred million every day. This madness has to stop. Kittens are prettier than cats.