Packaging by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™

My protégé Ikey the Cat and I were lounging in my basement bachelor pad enjoying a new drink, the Espresso Slide, that I had prepared on my Pasquini espresso machine.

“It’s fabulous, boss!” tiny Ikey squeaked.

“Thank you, protégé Ikey. I just knew the idea of a single molecule of espresso, served on a slide with a microscope on the side, would be a hit — the logical endpoint of espresso connoisseurship, a drink not to be ingested but rather contemplated,” I replied.

“Yes, just looking at it, I can taste it!” Ikey agreed.

My boorish housemate J. came bounding down the stairs and demolished the tranquil atmosphere.

“Dear fellows,” he began, “as you know I must find a way to increase my income due to the imminent arrival of my darling SP. So, since you two are always battling Ashcroft Youth and various other fascists, nutjobs, creeps, etc., I thought that you’d make splendid superheroes!” he exclaimed with entrepreneurial zeal.

He pulled two miniature masks and capes out of a bag and gushed, “You just need to wear these, and we’re off to the money-races!”

“Really, J.,” I said languidly, “you are absolutely trifling.”

“But it’s ‘packaging’!” J. protested.

Ikey jumped up on the espresso bar and grabbed his crotch. “I’ve got your package right here, you goddamn m************ stupid-ass trifler! How dare you suggest we wear those goofy m************ outfits? Can’t you just accept us as we are? Can’t you just accept our cat super-powers and leave it at that?” he screeched.

“But … but … but …” J. bumbled.

“But nothing!” Ikey the Cat screeched. “Now get your ass out of here before I apply 3 pounds of feline bodily force to you!”