Look, cat. It's a bad day for me, OK? Probably my worst day ever, worse than that time I accidentally shed my skin in class and that cute little rattler saw and she and all her friends laughed at me.
I'm being eaten, OK? Not by something super-impressive, like a tiger or a shark or whatever. A toad is eating me. Me, a snake. Being eaten by a toad with the speed of molasses and warts like your old Uncle Bertie. It's humiliating, is what it is.
How'd this happen? Don't ask. I was just minding my own business here in Thailand, hanging out humming "One Night in Bangkok," as you do. Thai-ing one on, as all the bars say on those cute signs. And next thing I know I'm halfway down this toad's gullet, and you don't even want to know what other disgusting stuff is sloshing around in here. It kinda bites. Literally.
So the last thing I need is a cocky cat swatting at me with those dang claws of yours while a bunch of dumb humans howl and laugh in the background. Don't you have a dog you can run away from or something? A box you can go poop in? Because you have cat to be kitten me right now.