Deformed Spiders and Squashed Logic

What happens when mutated spiders invade Bear's carefully contained existence? Does he meet them face to face and destroy them for eternity? Or does he let Momma take care of things and spend the evening under Momma's bed? Of course, as with any conversation in the Momma Kat household, there's a lot of added randomness so see if you can keep up with the twists and turns below!
p.s. While this post is a collection of "conversations" between Momma Kat and Bear Cat, these are all original and have not been posted to Momma's Facebook page. Enjoy!

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

Deformed spiders:
BC: Momma? MomMA! What's wrong with these spiders? They look deformed.
MK: Those aren't spiders. Those are ants.
BC: Are you sure they're not spiders? Maybe we're being exposed to radioactive elements! I could turn into a toad!
MK: The only thing radioactive in here is your litter box . . . or your attitude. Hahaha.
BC: You're not funny. Maybe they're DEMONS sent to eat my soul!
MK: Do you have one?
BC: By the time you see the horror it will be TOO LATE.
MK: I think you'll survive, Bear.
BC: But the legs on these hideous freaks of nature are so tiny, how am I supposed to get them off?
MK: Maybe you could not dismember them.
BC: What fun is that?
MK: By the way, keep your food in your bowl, they are going after the kibble you paw out of your bowl onto the floor.
BC: They touched my food? Those jerks! I'm going to rip them into a hundred pieces . . . er . . . two pieces! At least the spiders leave my food alone.
MK: You could always keep your food IN your bowl. I know it sounds silly - why eat food out of a bowl if you can just eat it off the floor, right?
BC: Exactly! Ummm . . . Momma?
MK: What?
BC: This ant is looking at me strangely . . . and he's crouched down like he's ready to pounce on me. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
{Bear runs under the bed}
BC: Is it gone? Is he chasing me? Do I only have a few seconds left to review my life before he attacks?
MK: Bear, it was already dead. It wasn't crouching, it was smashed.
BC: Easy mistake. Like you're so perfect!
{Bear runs out from under the bed to the spot where the "menacing" ant was}
BC: WHERE IS IT? I wanted to roll around over it.
MK: Like some victorious conqueror who finally slayed his formidable foe? It was already dead!
BC: Whatever. History is written by the victors - even the unintentional ones. Where is it?
MK: I threw it away.
BC: You never let me have any fun! You're mean!
MK: Cats aren't supposed to enjoy rolling around in yucky stuff!
BC: Oh, so now YOU'RE the expert on proper cat protocol? I don't think so!
MK: How about I let you roll around on the ones you kill yourself?
BC: NO! I'm not touching those brutes while they have the ability to turn me into an armadillo!
MK: Can you say drama?
BC: I have better things to do. All this stress is making me tired. Don't disturb my nap . . . unless one of those beasts is within ten feet of me and won't die. Otherwise, I need my beauty sleep.
"I said, 'DON'T disturb my nap!'"

Squashed logic:
MK: What's wrong?
MK: For crying out loud! I am not going to squash you like a little bug.
BC: How do I know you didn't say the same thing to the ant right before you made him an antcake?
MK: If you took care of the ants, I wouldn't need to kill them.
BC: They taste nasty.
MK: I rest my case.
BC: I don't. I'm not going to be able to eat or sleep or play or anything . . . I'm going to have to watch you all the time . . . so you don't squash me in my sleep.
MK: You don't try to dismember me when I'm sleeping, do you?
BC: What does that have to do with anything?
MK: You dismember spiders all the time - but it doesn't mean you want to dismember me, does it?
BC: You only have two legs . . . what fun would that be?
MK: Fine. I throw spiders outside, but have I ever done that to you?
BC: You abet their escape? I'd been tracking one for DAYS and all of a sudden she disappeared! I hate you!
MK: I'm pretty sure that was a foregone conclusion before this conversation even started. I just LOVE these conversations.

Dirt and ickiness:
BC: Momma, why are you washing your new hangers?
MK: Because I'm going to put clean clothes on them and they looked icky.
BC: They're black! You can't SEE anything! Don't you think that's a little OCD?
MK: Maybe, but I prefer being a bit OCD to rolling around in the 100 ants I just killed before I could get back to vacuum them up. Maybe it would make sense if YOU had killed them - but you just watched me do all the work.
BC: What? You're jealous that you didn't get to roll around in them?
MK: Oh! And your habit of rolling in the mud on the front porch?
BC: EXACTLY! What does it matter if your clean clothes are a bit dusty, when a few minutes after you put them on, I rub up against you? I'm almost black, so you never know what I might pass along.
MK: Do you WANT a bath, because I'm seriously considering starting to give you baths on a regular basis.
BC: You wouldn't dare! I'd never talk to you ever again!
MK: Then stop trying to tell me how dirty you are when I know how proud you are of your well groomed fur.
BC: Plumage.
MK: Is for chickens. And other birds.
BC: Not when you wear it as well as I do! That reminds me . . . can I have a whole chicken?
MK: NO. And if you ask me again within the next 24 hours, you aren't going to get even a piece of chicken.
BC: Plumage tyrant!
MK: Furry terrorist!
BC: Lick my butt!
MK: After you.
BC: You always throw that in my face! Hmph. I'm going to my happy place.
{Bear prances away}
MK: Happy place? Did you find more dead ants? A mud pit? Your stash of spider legs?
BC: I can't hear you in my happy place.

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