Unicorns : A History.

I started this blog, Death By Unicorn, for one reason: to give Devin something to be entertained by while he is deployed in Iraq. It started with the book that we write in and mail back and forth from Iraq to New Mexico. I wanted to make him laugh when he read it so I began a series entitled "Death By Unicorn" because I guess that's just what I do. It soon evolved into graphic images depicting all the horrible ways that a unicorn could kill you, mostly involving loss of eyes by means of impalement. My crude stick figures got me to thinking that it would be cool to start a blog where I could have my awful cartoons instantly accessible to him online.

Tonight as I sit here refusing to go to bed like a small child attempting to wait for Santa I got to pondering... what the hell is a unicorn? My theories are shotty, at best, but I have to try to figure this out. My imagination seems to take a tailspin and I begin to weave an intricate web of the history of the elusive unicorn.

And so it begins.....

Long ago unicorns were everywhere, they were so beautiful and plentiful and were perfectly integrated into the delicate balance of the ecosystem. Having developed a hard horn on their heads made from the same proteins that go into our fingernails they were well equipped to protect themselves and the biggest males had the most beautiful horns which always attracted the ladies. A proud race, unicorns are, and they were forever sought after and over-hunted for their beauty and rare magical qualities that their horns, hooves, fur, entrails and tail hair could provide. A bowstring made of unicorn tail hair will never break. Ever. A unicorn entrail soup would cure anything that ailed you. Anything. Unicorn hoof shoes would never break and make you run as fast as light. No... faster.

The unicorn's population began to dwindle, it's small gene pool allowed recessive genes to emerge causing genetic mutations among this breed of horse. Among these mutations were rough patches of dry gray skin, poor eyesight and shorter fatter legs and bodies. The unicorns didn't mind those changes though because, over time, that rough exterior began to help them survive better. Use lotion? I think not. They were less sought after and therefore their populations began to rise again. Their helpful mutations began to evolve the population (individuals do not evolve by definition) of unicorns into a rough skinned, short, poor sighted animal with horns on it's face.

And like all populations that find something that works for them, they grew, they became strong and they lasted throughout the years.

Today we call these animals "Rhinoceros'" a word which is adapted from Rhinosaurous because Rhino's were believed to be dinosaurs but later found that they w ere not. They have long forgotten their vain beautiful exteriors and retired to the plains of Africa where their biggest problem is a vampiric bird that drinks their blood, that part I did not make up.

Unicorns, what are they? They are rhinos, dummy. Rhinos are unicorns that stopped using lotion.

Peek-a-Goo.

For those of you who have met Magoo or "Goo" you know that she's... special. For those of you who haven't met Goo, well, there's just nothing like her.

From her bright blue crossed eyes that get even more crossed when she's tired, to her fat ass that swings back and forth when she Waddle-Runs away from you, Goo is special.

She poofs for no reason, she runs into walls and she begs for weird things like apples and bananas and then never eats them. She sleeps in the middle of my bed, leaving me with no room. She's trained to come to a whistle, she used to play fetch when she wasn't so fat, when she begs she gets as close to you as she possibly can without touching you while smacking her lips and crossing her eyes. Her name used to be Mr. Magoo because I thought she was a boy, then one day she put her butt in my face and she became "Miss Magoo."

She is the one, the only, Goo.

In all honesty she is the perfect cat for me. She is probably the dumbest cat I've ever known but I love her and she loves me and we play a fun game together.

In order to gain a better vision of what kind of game we play I can only reference a real live picture rather than try to draw it myself.

and now the cartoon version:

Most of the time I just come around and she chirp meows at me and will maybe fall over for me to pet her belly. But... sometimes, well... sometimes things get a little heated.. sometimes I get a little too excited.... and, well, I lose. Yeah... I didn't think there ever could be a winner or a loser in Peek-a-boo either but Goo and I are apparently quite special.

 

There aren't many ways that Peek-a-boo can go wrong, I'll be honest, in retrospect this was bound to happen and I'm sure everyone else except for me saw it coming... but, no, not me! I just wanted to play Peek-a-boo... with my retarded cat.