Sir Kittye and I, Gentlemen Vagabonds: A Kitty and Me Mini-Adventure (in the Past!)

Sir Kittye and I were lounging with carefull grace by the fyre in our South London home (to reveal more regarding its specific location wouldst surely be folly, as the English masses adore us far too much alreadye).

We were jousting each other lyghtly, scouring the pages of Alexander Pope's minor works for barbed couplets we might aim at the other's vytals. As we did so, we imbibed a bit of cyder from our Gentlemen Vagabonds Cyder Presse & Iron Smithie. All else was quiet.

A Lady entered.

Sir Kittye and I, flummoxed at the sudden, and quite female, visitor, ogled the lass from our chairs (the covers of which were, of course, made of the finest Tricephalous Beast Hide from the West Indies). My lady's garments were so tightly affyxed that her boosoms were nearly leaping away, like Irishmen from a day's work.

She spoke. "The sign on the door read 'Gentlemen Vagabonds,' yes? I am in great danger. May I request your services?" Her cheeks then did blush the fynest shade of roseate these ancient eyes have seen, and I desyred greatly in that moment to meet her request and to see what might arise from our acquaintance.

However, in the next momente, Sir Kittye did affix his eyes even nearer to our lady's form and spoke thusly: "Pray, m'lady, simply state your request, and for a just recompense we will be sure to name the appropriate ... figure."

He then stared dyrectly at our lady's boosom and waggled his whiskers in the most obscene way afforded to a house feline.

Our lady then huffed mightily, turned about without the quickest flick of her girtle bone, and left the premises more quickly than a Scot to a barbarous contest of brawn and myte.

I was moments away from protesting Sir Kittye's vile action, when he turned his snide visage to my own and spoke these words:

"Suck it."

He continued to lounge.

The next morning I smiled and waved as Sir Kittye awoke to find himself aboard a large ship bound for the Colony of Australia.

"Suck it, indeed, Sir Kittye," I said. "Suck it, indeed."



[Historical Note: This (April 23, 1798) was the first recorded instance of anyone ever saying, "Suck it."]