Yesterday



Some random chick with manga eyes pets Heathcliff, who got a hot new cell phone for Christmas. In an effort to get in with today's generation, he sends a text message relating his glee, or perhaps hatred of this woman (cat speak is hard to decipher, even in text message format). She should be lucky: whenever I get a text message, it's from some random hood rat who is all like "Yoz, I ususally jak peepz shitz 4 lezz dan dis -_^ wut wut, playah?" I'm sure that's what "purr" really means.

I love how shocked Owner-Lady is that her cat is using a phone. I'd be more shocked that he's giving the middle finger.

Today



Spike, tired of losing to Heathcliff on a constant basis, called up Barry Bonds and asked for a hook-up. After weeks of a carefully supervised training regimen and even going so far as losing dramatic snowball fight reenactments on purpose (I guess that'd be why it's a reenactment), he decides that now is the time for Heathcliff's comeuppance. Heathcliff and Owner Boy are thusly challenged to a boulder throwing fight. Thinking it a joke, they pack snowballs. Spike lifts and hurls a boulder. Guess who isn't fucked.

Meanwhile, instead of sparing his grandson and cat from their gristly fate, he comments to a new neighbor about the state of the game. And possibly how gay Spike's scarf is.

This, truly, is as good as Heathcliff will ever be.