Today there was another incident with Carlton Banks. Carlton, while a sweet baby boy most of the time, tends to be a little tricky once in awhile. There have been a handful of times where the trickster comes out and in my household, they are known as his little "incidents."
The first example of a Carlton Incident was when I lived downtown with Lizzy G. The boys were kittens, but were quickly showing us who really ruled the roost. Lizzy G was home alone with them, opened the fridge to get something and Carlton grabbed some food (I forget what it was) and ran off in hiding. Liz called me so I could hear the most monstrous growling noises ever known to man. Carlton was all about his little treat and no one was going to stop him. Until this moment, we had never heard him so much as hiss at anyone (his brother included); we never knew that such a mean man was inside such a little kitty baby. He really IS his mother's child ... don't get between either of us and food. Period.
The second incident involved a third (not so innocent) party, Jonathan. Lizzy G and I went to this amazing Lebanese joint and came home with some leftover lamb. The next day, Jonathan came over to do some laundry and fell asleep on my couch. Lizzy G and I had some errands to run, so we left Jonathan and his laundry. We returned to find that "the devil cat" attacked him over the delicious leftover lamb when he reached in the fridge for a beer (served him right for mooching!). Carlton and Jonathan had a race around the apartment for awhile until he gave into his fears of a baby kitty and just allowed the bad boy to eat the food.
I had never witnessed the severity of these incidents until I hid half a chocolate bar in a drawer that I didn't think the boys could open (we had to tape most of the cabinets and drawers closed so the tricksters couldn't get to the human food, ie: attempting to avoid additional incidents). Carlton grabbed that chocolate bar and went running into Lizzy G's room. Meat is one thing, but chocolate isn't so terrific for boyboys to eat. I chased him under Lizzy G's bed, heard that evil growl, and panicked. What if I didn't get the chocolate before he ate it? What if he died and "Carlton Banks: Born a trickster, died a trickster" was to be on his little kitty tombstone? No, no, no, that just wasn't in the cards.
Mustacho helped me corner Carlton (after several attacks to my hands and arms, and some blood spattering on Lizzy G's wall--gross, I know). Thankfully, Liz had a glass of water next to her bed, so I ended up throwing the contents on him to scare him into dropping the candy. I still have a pretty cool scar because of this incident. Mustacho remains a mama's boy to this day. As does Carlton.
There was another incident involving a turkey leg, but that story is pretty similar to the lamb. Again, don't get between a fatty and his/her food.
Anyway, that brings us to today's incident. We hadn't had one in over a year, so I was pretty shocked to hear that same old hiss and growl routine. However, this incident didn't involve food ... it was a used Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (which, incidentally, is a really awesome tool to have. It removes nicks and marks on the wall, soap scum, and all other kids of things. I highly recommend it. Just keep it away from my cat). I have had these sponges in my home since the boys were kittens, so I don't know why Carlton decided that today was the day. I heard a crash in the kitchen but didn't really give it much thought. Then, I saw Carlton slowly walking into the living room with something white in his mouth. I thought it was a sock or panties or something, so I was ready to laugh at him. Nope, it was my Magic Eraser. After realizing that the eraser must have some type of chemicals in it if it's removing all kinds of stains and whatnot, I decided it was time to steal the sponge back. Again, lion growling and hissing commenced and Mustacho prepared to back me up. I finally distracted Carlton with his favorite cat toy (which we call his baby) and stole the Magic Eraser before he noticed. As I was hiding his new stolen object, Evil Carlton snapped back to reality and started meowing and purring. What a weirdo. This happened a few minutes ago, and he's now sitting on my lap purring like the sweetest baby around. Should I get him tested for bipolarism?
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