Okay, so this past weekend, I was sitting around talking to Wilson, and …
Wilson
Wait, no. That’s not right. Not Wilson. No, it wasn’t Wilson. Couldn’t have been Wilson, now could it? I mean, he floated away, right?
No, this wasn’t Wilson. But it was someone who reminds me a good bit of Wilson, and thus my confusion.
Not that his face is red or even that he’s actually a soccer ball. No, this guy’s face is black and he’s really a cat, although the size of his head, now that he’s all grown up (the picture below is of the supine zombie kitten), is very nearly that of a league-legal softball. And his name isn’t Wilson either. It’s Jeepers.
Jeepers the Cat
Still, there is a very definite resemblance here, don’t you think? Something about that enigmatic, impenetrable, full-eyeballed stare, which might be either stupefyingly vacuous or deeply reflective, depending upon the viewer.
Most striking of all, though, is the very frozenness of this curious expression, immutable in the case of Wilson but damned near for Jeepers, too, notwithstanding the profundity of any given line of discourse I (or Tom Hanks) might proffer. Kinda gives me the willies, in fact. Which brings me to Jeepers’ brother. That would be Willys (ahem). Read the rest of this entry »
