Home of the Lumps

hi agian!!!

Thu, 23 Sep 2004 21:56:41 GMT

ok its me caramon agian. raist is asleep and moms at wurk! we had to go too THE ICKY PLACE agian last week. i dun like it even if they do gimme treets. they sed that im even fatter so nowe im on speshul pra-skrip-shun diet fud. its still gross and very not gooshy!! but insted of flat this kind is all round kibbel. i dint wanna eat it so i scoopd it out too see if their wuz any reglar fud underneath. but their wasnt. BUT! mom got a speshul dish that refils itslef so their wuz more round kibbel. i scoopd out lots and lots and fuond out it rollz all over the kicchen like marbels! its fun!! i emteed the HOLE contianer! im gonna go play with it sum more now. moms gonna be so proud i made myslef a toy!!

beybye! from caramon!!

Further conquest

Fri, 04 Jun 2004 03:41:35 GMT

By request, I've created some new banners for the comic, as the original ones seem to be lost. Et voila:

There will be some more in the future, as well as updates here, when I can sneak onto the computer again. For now, adieu, as I hear Mom returning from tending to my brother's diversion hairball.

A dab here, a touch there.

Fri, 28 May 2004 15:57:25 GMT

Well, the beginnings of a new layout for our journal are here. I've been extremely busy recently with the technical aspect of things around here. Aside from the incident where I got one of my SoftPaws caught under the spacebar, it's gone rather smoothly. My erstwhile brother, on the other hand, has been extremely busy practicing his imitation of a speedbump. It's proven extremely effective, especially on Mom in the wee hours of the night.

I've also had extremely limited access to this machine. Mom has been spending a lot of time pounding on it and yelling something about "PHP". Perhaps she means PCP... that would certainly explain a lot.

A heartfelt thank you (and head-lickings from Caramon) to the individuals who have been spreading word about the comic. The faster we gather adoring readers, the sooner we can achieve world domination, my feline bretheren! And remember... if you are caught by a human while plotting, look innocent and lick one paw daintily. That always works.

Confoozed

Wed, 12 May 2004 00:57:52 GMT

OK i dun get it. Somoene creatid twolumps_feed (hope I did that rite) for us. But i dun think its wurking cuz NOBODY HAS FED US THRU IT YET!!!1! SEND GOOSHYFOOD!!1!1 PLEEZE!!!

lix, singed caramon

Thu, 06 May 2004 15:47:01 GMT

Spring is in full blast in our area now, and while Mom has been commenting on how "mild" and "nice" it has been, I'd like to remind her that she is not forced to wear a fur coat at all times. (Not that I would want to be hideously naked like that, but it does make quite a temperature difference.) The temperature has not only sapped our energy levels (hard to tell with my slothful sibling, but his regular once-daily carom through our abode has been decidedly lackluster of late), but it has also made even sleep a difficulty. Sleep! The prime talent of all felines, so harshly curtailed! One should weep.

I have been attempting to attack the problem scientifically, by strategically flattening myself in order to present a wider surface area for heat convection into the air. At least, I hope so. Someone *ahem* seems to have merrily gnawed on half of the textbook left over from Mom's college days, so I'm forced to literally piece things together. Even if my scientific theory is inaccurate, at least the extreme flattening posture conveys my severe displeasure and contempt at the situation. No noticeable increase in sleep time yet, although I have managed to reduce myself to a thickness of 3 inches on occasion. I wonder if the Guinness Book would be interested...

Caramon, on the other hand, has stumbled upon a rather simpler solution. Along with the dreadful weather, spring has brought a migration of Zenaida asiatica through the area. Caramon has managed to keep his napping schedule up by regularly launching himself at the doves beyond the closed window, thereby braining himself into semiconsciousness.

While his method is certainly effective, I believe I'll continue to seek a less brain-damaging method of assuring sleep for those of us who actually have something to damage.

Tue, 30 Mar 2004 02:30:31 GMT

We've been trying to update our repetoire of Sounds of Displeasure, as whining seems to be losing its efficacy (although I have gained a sustained-note length that would give an amateur opera singer envy). The term that seems to be used most often by The Bald One and several visitors is "Harrumph", so my brother and I have been practicing to try and break the language barrier.

I've managed to develop an audible "Hmf!" which I think carries a good deal of disdain I am attempting to convey regarding the lack of gooshy food, pettings, and adorations in the 24-hour manner that we, as cats, inherently deserve. My brother, on the other hand, has only managed a loud "WHUFF!" that he seems to think will suffice. I've pointed out to him repeatedly that he sounds like an asthmatic terrier, not a put-upon feline, but he has disregarded my opinion and continues to *whuff* proudly at the humans, the furniture, the carpets. I despair at trying to teach him the point of this exercise. The small silver lining to his idiocy is he's managed to keep Mom in a state of frazzled nerves, thinking that he is about to launch a hairball in a remote room. So at least I'm getting some entertainment out of the situation.

I'm pondering starting up a diction class for other cats in similarly untenable circumstances. As torturous as the thought is, I'm sure there are other felines out there who are also subjected to dry food, nail trimmings, vet visits, and generally not being treated like the gods-on-earth that we are.

Cruelty and starvation.

Thu, 25 Mar 2004 20:09:02 GMT

It was brought to Mom's attention at our last Vet visit that there is a need for weight loss in our household. One only has to look at my rotund sibling to come to the conclusion of "Well, duh." My brother is nearly large enough to warrant his own orbiting defense satellites. But then it was insinuated that I am in fact a bit over my "ideal weight"! Just because I do not personally ascribe to the scrawny, "alley-cat-chic" that is currently in fashion, I am touted as pudgy! I consider myself to be quite sleek, thank you.

But my protests fell on deaf ears, and my brother and I have recently been subjected to the rigors of... *shudder* dieting. No more Gooshy Food, no more even regular food. Just hideous flattened pellets that are supposedly diet cat food. We might as well be eating rocks for all the flavor this kibble affords. Well, Caramon eats rocks anyway, but that's beside the point.

But all is not lost! In the guise of play, I was rolling atop Mom's purse last night. While she was distracted, I ducked my head inside and found her Plastic Square of Numbers that she uses when ordering pizza. I know also that it can be ordered online, which should be no difficulty as I have sufficiently mastered typing. The only obstacle now lies in actually opening the door when it arrives. Perhaps a disguise is in order, or some type of pulley device to reach the doorknob. Must think on this.

Wed, 17 Mar 2004 01:59:40 GMT

Well, in reference to the previous post, it seems we've now made the Big Time. Witness our cartooned adventures at:

http://twolumps.keenspace.com

It seems that there was some issue with using our real names, as some fictional upstarts have already gained their fame using them. No, I don't particularly care that they were there first... they're human. We're cats. We obviously have the superior advantage. But alas, no one heeds our logic in these matters. I suppose if I must go by a Nom de Plume, someting from Dickens is dignified enough for me to stand it.

I must say it's about time that the world started appreciating our wit, beauty, and grace. That is to say, mine. And my brother's... hmm. Exuberance would be a kind word, I think. Caramon, do you have anything to add?

I LIKE IT I LIKD THE BIRRD THEN I HIT MY HED ON TEH WINDOW!!

Mmm. Indeed.

Ahhh, fame.

Sun, 14 Mar 2004 05:09:29 GMT

Well-deserved recognition is about to be ours. Finally, my brilliance and wit will be publicly recognized. (As well as my brother for a bit a comparison and comedy relief.) I guess the bald one is finally good for something after all.

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 01:35:52 GMT

I don't believe this. It's like living in an institution for mental deficients and psychopaths. He PEED in it.

I'm going to appeal. Off to the water dish.

HAHA! BY ME CARAMON!!

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 01:33:15 GMT

HAHAHA!! I PEED IN IT!!11! THE BOX IZ NOW MINE BY KITTIE LAW!! I WIN!!1ONE!

Belated Xmas, by Raistlin

Fri, 09 Jan 2004 01:31:29 GMT

So, this holiday season was fairly quiet. Mom and the Bald One did not abandon us as rumored, so it seems all our whining went to good use. Must use this tactic more. Much paper and ribbon to frolic in and fight with, which is always a good gift, in my opinion. Today a few boxes arrived from the one who calles herself "Grandma" and gives us yarn to chase. She is obviously of excellent taste when it comes to cat gifts. However, of the three, one box is decidedly larger than the other two. As I am the more intelligent and obviously superior brother, there is no question that it was intended for me. However, my bother seems to believe in the "size matters" rule, and believes that the enormous box is intended for his equally enormous posterior. I shall have to dissuade him from this particular illusion, although it is not easy with these rubber claw-protectors Mom has recently installed. Vile wench. Excuse me while I have... ah, words with my sibling.

Thu, 28 Aug 2003 00:59:05 GMT

It seems that Mom now has a small collection of stuffed toys on a low shelf for the entertainment of The Toddler. We have decided to voice our displeasure of the whole Small Person scenario by mauling these items in effigy. Mom has not yet cracked under the strain of finding the small corpses of toys strewn about the apartment upon returning from wrk every day, but we think we shall soon wear her down.

In idle amusement, I found that I can make the Bald One levitate by crawling onto the back of the couch directly behind his neck and making a retching noise, without having to produce an actual hairball. It seems my powers of imitation have improved. The rection I illicited was quite satisfactory, to the point where it was hard to maintain the expression of necessary innocence I kept for the next several minutes. Had to retire under the sofa to commence snickering.

On the other paw...

Thu, 22 May 2003 23:09:38 GMT

Now that my peanut-brained brother has gotten THAT out of his system and is off doing a "happy dance" in the kitchen, I'm afraid that I have to bring a darker note to these happy tidings.

The reappearance of gooshy food isn't just some blissful bounty from the heavens. At the same time that The Ritual began working again, we were visited with a horrible, unspeakable plague: The Toddler.

This creature that has periodically infested our lives seemed quite innocent at first. It's not that much larger than we are (in fact, Caramon's first query was if he could eat it). Low enough to the ground that it's in no danger of tripping over or stepping on us unnoticed, I originally thought it to be a great improvement on the standard human size. But two things rapidly became aparrent that killed my initial assessment:

1. The Toddler is both too short and too undeveloped to retrieve and open cans of gooshy food.

2. It screams.

Upon seeing us, The Toddler's immediate reaction is to shriek "KIIIIH-IIIIYYYYYY!!" at a pitch and volume that could shatter glass (and feline nerves). It then launches itself in a kamikaze gallop towards the nearest furry body, arms outstretched and weight thrown forward in a way that can only end in a full-body tackle of Said Furry Thing. If discouraged from said tackle, The Toddler proceeds to "pet" the nearest cat, which consists of whacking one of us with a palm, a toy, or even once (Bast herself knows why) a toothbrush.

I have no clear idea why The Toddler was visited upon my brother and I. I can only conjecture that it is some form of heavenly balance, a karmic suffering to bring enlightenment and true appreciation of peace and gooshy food. Fortunately The Toddler only appears a few times a month, so our lives (and sanity) are not constantly in peril. My brother seems to have resigned himself to the situation with an almost Zen calmness, letting himself be shrieked at and whacked on under the belief that "any attention is good attention". But he also cannot see the connection between The Toddler and gooshy food... I know that the creature will once again descend upon us soon.

So if anyone needs me this weekend... I'll be under the couch.

O BOY O BOY O BOY

Thu, 22 May 2003 22:52:35 GMT

THE RITUEL WORKED! WE GOT GOOSHY FOOD I LUV MOM YAYYYY!!!

Oh, the felinity!

Wed, 16 Apr 2003 22:01:52 GMT

Well. We recently had a MOST unpleasant experience at the hands of Mom-The-Bitch, although I'll wager I got the brunt of the horridness by far.

It all started when Mom brought out the Small-Room-That-Goes-Places. I figured out quite a while ago that it never goes anyplace I want to be, so I immediately relocated underneath the couch. My brother, however, takes any sign of human commotion as "potential feeding" and came to investigate, and was summarily captured. Of course. *rolls eyes* Unfortunately, it wasn't long before I was also tracked down and removed from hiding to be stuffed in the SRTGP with Caramon.

After a lot of bumping and jostling and cursing from mom and yowling from my brother, we were put in the car, which always happens. We hate this. I have an unfortunate tendency to get carsick on winding roads, and Mom always ignores our requests to change the radio station. Fortunately the trip was not too long (or winding) and we arrived without major incident. Then Mom took the SRTGP out of the car and I saw with horror that we were at...

THE VET.

For those of you who have been fortunately spared the experience, this is a horrible place. The air reeks of fear, dogs, and a thousand shouting territory-sprays. When you get inside, they inject you with things, draw your blood, and stick probes into regions I cannot mention in polite company. I've seen humans talk about such horrors on daytime television, calling them "abductions", so it seems no one and nothing is safe from The Vet. The fact that Mom repeatedly brings us here just proves that she is a sadistic bitch, in my opinion.

This visit in particular was no different, involving several repetitions of the above assaults and indignities. Caramon growled and tried to wriggle away during the process with little success. I attempted to play dead in hopes that the foul beings would have no interest in taking samples from a corpse, but to no avail. Finally we were bundled back into Small-Room-That-Goes-Places and taken back to the large urine-smelling "waiting area". The trial was at least over with... or so I thought.

The Vet, it seems, had turned one of us to the dark side and made him a willing cohort in his torturous plans. This large black feline roamed the office freely, wearing a collar that said "Oscar" (although "Judas" would have been more apropos). He sauntered smugly over to the SRTGP and stuck his nose up to the door, no doubt to gloat or try to indoctrinate shattered souls into his cause.

This is the point where Caramon lost it.

Seeing the enemy at the gate, as it were, my brother launched himself into a full Berzerker blood-frenzy. Screaming in rage, he attacked the door as if he intended to claw straight through it. Mom, hearing the sudden commotion, came over and tossed the interloper away. Unfortunately, the down side of a berzerker rage is it compels you to fight. If there are no longer any enemies nearby, you attack whoever is in the viscinity. Namely, me.

After a moment of shock at my brother flinging himself at me with such aggression, I dropped into a meditative stance in preparation to defend myself using the Eastern Arts. Some might mistake this state of deep focus as "going totally limp like a cowardly dishrag", but I assure you, I was merely preparing to launch a brave and skilled return attack. Despite my brother's midless rage, the Small-Room-That-Goes-Places is barely large enough to hold the both of us comfortably and calmly. Finding himself without much room to maneuver, Caramon was making the SRTGP rock and bounce fairly cartoonishly.

While I was gathering my Chi, and Mom was frantically trying to get the door of SRTGP open, the Judas-Oscar returned and leapt to cling onto the mesh of the door and spit obscenities at us through the bars. The noise drew my brother's attention, and he valiantly launched himself at The Enemy. Unfortunately, the door was still closed. On the good side, the violent collision of his head with the door both knocked The Enemy off his perch, and made a rather melodic ringing sound. On the bad side, once he had picked himself up, I was again the only viable target in sight. My concentration had been broken by the feline-battering-ram demonstration, and I quickly dropped back into a meditative state.

It was hardly necessary, however, as a moment later the Judas-cat leapt op top of Small-Room-That-Goes-Places and began stabbing his paw down through the air vents in mockery of our imprisonment. Caramon, never one to give up, began launching himself at the ceiling in an attempt to smite The Enemy, but only succeeded in ricocheting himself rather violently off the roof several times. To try and keep him from giving himself (further) brain damage, Mom grabbed the evil cat and skidded him across the tile floor of the room as several Nurse-Minions came to "help". (As if I would trust assistance from allies of The Vet! Ha!)

Mom managed to wrestle the door of SRTGP open at last, just as Judas-Cat, in a last burst of madness, launched himself back across the room and into the SRTGP with us! I can only imagine what gruesome violence would have ensued in that closed space; fortunately a Nurse-Minion grabbed Oscar by his tail and hauled him back out in a most undignified manner (to my delight), tossing him into a side room and shutting the door. No doubt she recognized the unquenchable spirits of two cats who will never be converted to the side of The Vet, and knew that their feline lackey was no match!

My brother, confused and hysterical at this point, bolted out the open door and down a hallway. If I had not still been deeply in inner focus, I could have told him that there was nothing down there but offices of The Vet, and certainly the last place he wanted to be. Mom returned with him momentarily, while Nurse-Minions were busily peering in at me and assessing my fortitude, no doubt. One noted that my nose was bleeding slightly from a glancing shot my brother had landed via blind luck. Unfortunately for me, proper meditation requires a slow return process, and so I was still limp and unresisting as they removed me to the back. Fortunately, this time I was submitted to nothing more undignified than having my nose washed and bactined.

I was brought back to the waiting area and handed to Mom, who brought me over to the door of SRTGP wherein my brother was sulking. Upon seeing a cat-shape outside, he immediately recommenced spitting and squalling in a complete temper tantrum. I assumed his uncooperative attitude would mean he had to remain in SRTGP on the way home while I was carried and petted by Mom, since this seemed only fair. Instead, one of the smirking Nurse-Minions brought out a small cardboard container. I didn't realize until Mom attempted to stuff my half-limp form into it that it was intended for ME! Unable to bear this final, ultimate indignity, I threw form to the winds, broke my meditation and bolted out of the box to secret myself under a large display of dog food. To my dismay, the shelf of kibble was shorter than Mom's arm, and I was dragged out humiliatingly by my scruff and stuffed in the box. (Bitch.)

But, we made it home again, and I suppose all's well that ends well. I'm communicating with fellow felines in the International Vet Resistance, and I might even forgive Mom someday if there is gooshy food on the horizon. We shall see. My brother is still sulking. Anything you want to add, Caramon?

they stuk things in my butt. i hate the wurld.

Well. Until next time, then.

Hard at work.

Tue, 25 Mar 2003 00:40:59 GMT

Whew! It's been a bit since we've updated here, but contrary to popular opinion we've been anything but entirely slothful. I have several more updates to make, but first I thought I'd share with you all some "vacation photos". No, unfortunately, WE didn't get to go on vacation. Mom decided to go away for the weekend, without us. The nerve, I tell you! But she also made the mistake of leaving her knitting in the computer room, so my brother and I had something to keep us occupied over the next couple of days. We decided a little redecorating was in order...

This is where she left everything to begin with, in a tidy little stack under the edge of the futon in the computer room. As if placing it under something would stop us!

We decided a computer room was no place for yarn (I mean, yarn? With computer equipment? Hello, how anachronistic can you get?) and decided to take it elsewhere. Here Caramon poses with our early work.

After rounding the corner with it, we couldn't find any place terribly suitable to express our artistic designs in the hallway. So, although we did end up back here with the yarn, as you can see, we pressed on.

After cleverly looping through a stack of videocassettes, we moved into the living room proper and rounded the coffee table. The clever use of the sharp-cornered monastery furniture for angle suspension was my idea, although Caramon did throw in the used yarn spool underneath for a surrealist-symbolist touch.

The coffee table enabled us to suspend the yarn angularly around the living room instead of having to conserve materials by heading straight across. As we worked across the living room, I was struck with another flash of inspiration: while grabbing change out of her collection jug before the trip, mom had inadvertently left it on the floor at the perfect height!

Some of my more impressive work, if I do say so myself.

Rounding the jug, we headed for the home stretch outside the other side of the living room and into the kitchen.

Unfortunately, at this point Caramon was automatically distracted with looking for Gooshy Food, and the grand project met its end here. Despite my brother's gluttony, it was a valiant effort on both our parts and I consider it an overwhelming success for felinity.

And it'll certainly teach Mom to go places without us!

Tue, 28 Jan 2003 00:48:05 GMT

One of Mom's friends decided to make a cartoon about how unfair it is that Soft Boobies Girl gets more pettings than we do, and about our frustration that male humans seem to be lacking Cat Pillows. They need to get with the program.

Wed, 08 Jan 2003 22:13:47 GMT

hi this is caramon raist is alseep rite now. i'm gettin the hang of this typng thing. raist taut me about caps-lok and he says soon he'll teech me to spel. mom and some other peple say that us cats don't have long memries. but it's not true and that's why i can tel you about THE RITUAL!!

evrry morning raist and me get up and walk all the way into the kichen. we go to one speshul spot and face eest. then we "raze our voises in song" raist says. mom says its "wyning like spoild meatloafs". i don't remembr why we do it but we remembr to do it evrry singul morning that's why its THE RITUAL!! raist says a long time ago when we did THE RITUAL a bowl of gooshy food wud come from the sky. but it musta been a long time cuz i don't remembr it. but evrry morning i will go to the speshul spot and SING!!! maybe sumday sumthing good will hapen agin cuz of it.

okay raist is waking up now gonna go jump on him BYE!!!

Wed, 08 Jan 2003 04:22:18 GMT

Mom's been out a lot, so I've been using her computer to make icons. Not bad for not having thumbs, eh?

Soft Boobies Girl was over here one night last week, and I thought she was never going to leave. I mean, honestly. What is the point of going out if you're just going to come back here and laugh really loudly and disturb my sleep? Some of us have things to do in the morning. She and Mom were both really annoying. I liked her better a few days later, though, when she came over again and gave me proper pettings. You've just got to train these people, I'm telling you.

Caramon has been practicing his typing. Maybe I'll let him make an entry soon. Then again, maybe not. He'll have to wait and see.

Mom has a Little Brother staying with her this week. We're not sure what we think of him.

I'd like to add the Sunbeam Avenger to my friends list, but he doesn't have a journal yet. Maybe his mom doesn't love him enough.

Gods, bored now.

Wed, 01 Jan 2003 19:24:23 GMT

Test? Test? Gods, typing is harder than Mom makes it look. Maybe having hands instead of paws would help.

Anyway. Who are Takhisis' Babies? I am Raistlin, and my brother Caramon and I have borrowed Mom's computer to tell our side of the story. Life as a cat is not as easy as some people seem to think - we have to poop in a box, we're constantly battling the String Monster, and Mom won't give us any gooshy food, no matter how much we cry. Bitch.

Okay, okay, Caramon is telling me not to call Mom a bitch. Whatever. Let's see him get up here and type, huh? I think we all know who the brain power around this apartment is, and it's not Meatloaf Kitty over there.

Where was I? Oh, right. So, yes, Takhisis is our mom. Occasionally she has other people over, but Fuzz-Head Boy won't play with us, and Soft Boobies Girl always leaves right when I'm getting comfortable. She and Mom are funny together, though. Lots of times they take off their stupid human clothes and go into Mom's Room together, then I hear them giggling for hours.

There must be something really fun inside Mom's Room. I wonder what it is. I'm going to find out, one of these days.

Oh, Caramon wants to say hi - HI MOM ITS CARAMON RAIST'S BEING MEAN COME HOME SOON AND PET ME!!!! I WANT GOOSHYFOOD PLEASE CAN I HAVE SOME? LOVE YOU BYE.

Ladies and gentlemen, my brother. *sighs a kitty sigh* And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go lie in a sunbeam, then play with a piece of string. The days are just packed.