Fifty Shades of Catnip Gray
Book Details
Author(s)Clarissa Haley
PublisherWes Writers and Publishers
ISBN / ASINB00KGP6TZO
ISBN-13978B00KGP6TZ4
Sales Rank1,806,200
MarketplaceUnited States 🇺🇸
Description
Laughter is the best medicine and it shouldn't cost a fortune. I aim to make you laugh.
Imagine the secret life your cat lives when you're gone to work or when you put him out for the night. Rex Gray or affectionately known as "Catnip Gray" is a cat. He's also a Detective with habits of the old fashioned Detectives from the days of film noir. He's a little on the sly side. He calls women "Dames." Plus he has a drinking problem. He can't stay away from the Slim-Fast bottle. Yes he's a hard Slim-Fast drinking cat. The fact that he's a cat with human foibles makes him funny and lovable.
It's a bit of a bawdy read for the kitties and the kiddies. But adults will love the satirical "lovemaking" scenes between Rex Gray and the "dame" cat Tabitha Davenport who tried to cuckold him into killing her husband. Yes we're paying a veiled homage to the popular sexy story with a similar name. You may forget you're reading about cats. If you don't roll over on the floor laughing, ask for your money back.
An Excerpt:
Sometimes a leopard has to change his stripes, or a tiger his spots…hmm I gotta lay off this Slim-Fast. What I’m trying to get at is I have to go deep cover to learn more about these shady cats I’m dealing with. No pun intended. I saw my perfect opportunity while perusing the Meow Meow. Normally the Meow Meow winds up in the bottom of my litter box. It’s nothing but a muck raking rag screaming such headlines as CANNIBAL TOMS MAKE CAT SOUP FROM KITTENS…CAT MATES WITH ELEPHANT-A CATELEPHANT IS BORN…ELVIS’S CAT LIVES ON THE MOON…MYSTERY CAT CLAIMS TO BE KENNEDY ASSASSIN…And it goes on. However something of interest in the want-ads section caught my attention. Of course those ads are just as lurid. WANTED: TAIL CURLER…PAYING GOOD MONEY FOR CAT EARS…DONATE YOUR DEAD CAT’S EYES TO MARBLE FACTORY…But a certain little gem caught my eye: DISCRETE FRNCH MAID NEED. NQUIRE at CUBBYHOLE ARM ASK FOR DOROTY GREN Apt 411.
So Dorothy Green needed a maid. What could a cheapskate like her be willing to pay seeing how she was trying to economize on the ad by deleting letters? Or maybe she just couldn’t spell. In any case I needed that job.
Now you’re thinking how could my muscular manly self ever get a job as a petite French Maid? A cat has his ways as many clueless humans will testify. Plus it helps to have gay friends. Sylvester doesn’t call himself a hairdresser. He calls himself a “Transformation Engineer.†And that’s just what I needed, to be transformed. I headed over to his studio after dark. After about ten hours of tucking, duct tape, umpteen-hundred wig try-ons, I emerged in the morning light as Brigitte. “Brigeet!†Sylvester proclaimed.
I thought it best not to go home and face those neighborhood hoodlums in Cat Alley. In fact walking anywhere in stiletto heels was out of the question. I felt like some kind of ham or turkey all trussed up for dinner. I hailed a Canary cab. In five minutes I arrived in front of the Cubbyhole Arms. After arguing with the driver over the fare, I sent him on his way and sauntered up to number four one-one. The canary wing in my purse would make a nice snack for later. I rang the doorbell. Dorothy Green answered. A hair curler teetered between her ears. A cigarette dangled from her mouth. Her robe was loose around her bosom. She picked at her teeth with a catfish bone.
Imagine the secret life your cat lives when you're gone to work or when you put him out for the night. Rex Gray or affectionately known as "Catnip Gray" is a cat. He's also a Detective with habits of the old fashioned Detectives from the days of film noir. He's a little on the sly side. He calls women "Dames." Plus he has a drinking problem. He can't stay away from the Slim-Fast bottle. Yes he's a hard Slim-Fast drinking cat. The fact that he's a cat with human foibles makes him funny and lovable.
It's a bit of a bawdy read for the kitties and the kiddies. But adults will love the satirical "lovemaking" scenes between Rex Gray and the "dame" cat Tabitha Davenport who tried to cuckold him into killing her husband. Yes we're paying a veiled homage to the popular sexy story with a similar name. You may forget you're reading about cats. If you don't roll over on the floor laughing, ask for your money back.
An Excerpt:
Sometimes a leopard has to change his stripes, or a tiger his spots…hmm I gotta lay off this Slim-Fast. What I’m trying to get at is I have to go deep cover to learn more about these shady cats I’m dealing with. No pun intended. I saw my perfect opportunity while perusing the Meow Meow. Normally the Meow Meow winds up in the bottom of my litter box. It’s nothing but a muck raking rag screaming such headlines as CANNIBAL TOMS MAKE CAT SOUP FROM KITTENS…CAT MATES WITH ELEPHANT-A CATELEPHANT IS BORN…ELVIS’S CAT LIVES ON THE MOON…MYSTERY CAT CLAIMS TO BE KENNEDY ASSASSIN…And it goes on. However something of interest in the want-ads section caught my attention. Of course those ads are just as lurid. WANTED: TAIL CURLER…PAYING GOOD MONEY FOR CAT EARS…DONATE YOUR DEAD CAT’S EYES TO MARBLE FACTORY…But a certain little gem caught my eye: DISCRETE FRNCH MAID NEED. NQUIRE at CUBBYHOLE ARM ASK FOR DOROTY GREN Apt 411.
So Dorothy Green needed a maid. What could a cheapskate like her be willing to pay seeing how she was trying to economize on the ad by deleting letters? Or maybe she just couldn’t spell. In any case I needed that job.
Now you’re thinking how could my muscular manly self ever get a job as a petite French Maid? A cat has his ways as many clueless humans will testify. Plus it helps to have gay friends. Sylvester doesn’t call himself a hairdresser. He calls himself a “Transformation Engineer.†And that’s just what I needed, to be transformed. I headed over to his studio after dark. After about ten hours of tucking, duct tape, umpteen-hundred wig try-ons, I emerged in the morning light as Brigitte. “Brigeet!†Sylvester proclaimed.
I thought it best not to go home and face those neighborhood hoodlums in Cat Alley. In fact walking anywhere in stiletto heels was out of the question. I felt like some kind of ham or turkey all trussed up for dinner. I hailed a Canary cab. In five minutes I arrived in front of the Cubbyhole Arms. After arguing with the driver over the fare, I sent him on his way and sauntered up to number four one-one. The canary wing in my purse would make a nice snack for later. I rang the doorbell. Dorothy Green answered. A hair curler teetered between her ears. A cigarette dangled from her mouth. Her robe was loose around her bosom. She picked at her teeth with a catfish bone.
