I'm pretty sure my estranged wife's deranged cat knows where my balls are. She walks around with a smirk on her face all day and her eyes rolling back into her skull. I can just tell she knows and she knows that I know and so the dance goes on.
Monster loves walks on the beach, but she hates everything else in the entire world, especially people, so I'm not too optimistic that she will divulge the location of my balls.
When I took this photo, I was on my porch, and despite having a screen between me and the unholy Beastmaster, I kept both eyes on her at all times, knowing full well that the screen was no match for her baby-killing claws. I then asked her for the location of my balls...the next thing I remember, I was waking up on the porch with "666" carved into my chest.
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