Cat Cafe

This was supposed to be a fun business venture. Open a cafe that serves quality free trade coffee at a reasonable price and fill it with a bunch of adorable, cuddly-wubbly kitties. What could go wrong? I’ll tell you what could go wrong – EVERYTHING.

Things were going great for the first month that Meowpuccino was open. People loved playing with our family of eight fluffy, lovely kitty-kats. It was going so well that I went to the shelter and added three more “employees” to my cafe. Little did I know that I was bringing a bunch of labor agitators into my small business!

I’ve sussed out that Miss Thing, the 3-year old shelter calico, is the ringleader. Ever since she showed up, the cats started spitting out hairballs during business hours. They started running from customers trying to give their cutie-patootie bellies a rub! And then I started finding tiny copies of Das Kapital in their litter box. That should have been a red flag, but I ignored it.

And then the takeover started. One day I’ve got “I Canz Cheeseburger?” posters on the wall, the next day it’s “I Canz Livable Wage?” Someone wrote “TINKERTOTS IS MY SLAVE NAME” in bird’s blood on the break room walls. And Miss Thing started prowling around the place in a little Che Guevara beret. Ooh, I could just wring her pretty-widdle neck!

The cats are demanding that I pay them now, which is confusing. I didn’t know that cats needed money, or that they can even understand basic economics.

I tried bringing in a dog overseer, but the cats snuck rat poison into his chow. I even tried replacing them with scab alley cats, but those traitorous fleabags just ended up joining the revolution. Now I’ve got 26 radicalized pussycats trying to seize the means of production and I’m all alone.

I tried meeting with a union rep today and it didn’t go well. How can I be expected to play hardball when the rep keeps rolling around and meeping in a saucerful of milk? Oooh, I could just pinch her widdle-diddle cheeks!

Please help me.

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