The fact that it's Todd again freaks me out a little, I'm not going to lie.

It's a minute before midnight, December 14. Not December 14 yet, we're not quite there. Sit down, keep your mouths shut, keep your hands inside the ride at all times. We're a thousand years from hearing the end of this shit.

Man, okay.

Okay, seriously.

Where was I?

Deember 14. Now it's finally December 14. The kitten, the Moxley-kitten, is sitting at J-Ro's feet; standing, actually; pacing around, meowing, begging for a pet or one more or perhaps three. I'm going to go oblige.

He's beside me now, trying like hell to eat my guitar. It's not food, Moxley. It's not anything nutritious nor particularly appetizing for your feline instincts to swoon over. It's... you know, it's a far cry from the regal condition of a divine dominion over the African savannah.