This is for the record…..
I can smell the feminine perfume and catnip hanging in the air. My nostrills are burning. The mountains of litter they use to hide their stubbles are looming over the streets like a smog. You can see waves of cat fur through the mist.
I am afraid. I haven't seen a non-catgirl in months. I fear I might be the only one left who does not speak in "nya~". I can feel the cat genes trying to get through my shaved pecs. The other day I started wondering if it's gay to lay down on a lap. I flex my biceps wondering if these are a man's, or a catgirl's.
I will not survive much longer. Understanding my doomed fate, I observed them from a safe house: the male locker room at the gym.
I will strike when they are at their weakest. Each day, the speakers of the city will blast caramelldansen to announce the Neko Salat. At that moment, the nekos will freeze in place to pray to their Queen (Felix is what she (he?) is called).
No longer human, getting addicted to catnip, out of my mind on a suicide mission. They, will, be, sprayed, with, the, water, bottle.