Something horrible—possibly unspeakable—happened to me this morning.
What you see above you is the remaining drops of an exotic blend of tea. Discovered in the himalayas 9,001 years ago, this blend of tea includes one hair of the domesticated feline. It’s really quite good. (I should add that that is just Bella’s hair for the one or two idiots who may be reading this. I should also add that Bella is my cat. She is named after who you think she is named after, but it is no fault of my own. Oh, and that’s just chai tea. Tazo to be precise.)
I’m used to drinking cat hair tea. It’s kind of my thing. You know what’s not my thing? This gem:
That isn’t a tiny piece of fluff in my tea cup, or even a tiny string clumped up. It’s a mother fucking *fly*. A winged *fucking* insect. In my tea.