Kittens Funny Quotes

I'm not leaving, Kitten. You're going to do this." My mouth opened as did the door behind us. Stomach dropping, I turned to see Mom standing there in all her fuzzy-bunny pajama glory. Oh, for the love of God.

Kitten..." "Don't Kitten me." I scowled, on a roll now. "You left around five or so and didn't get back till when? Past two in the morning? What were you guys doing? And get that stupid smile off your face. This isn't funny." Daemon tried to get rid of the smile but failed. "I love when your claws come out.

I have no doubt that you are more than capable of bringing the Monsean queen and my son and the rest of my sons and a hundred Nanderan kittens through an onslaught of howling raiders if you chose to.

The coldest depth of Hell is reserved for people who abandon kittens.

I shot him a look. "That bouncer was really big." His lips quirked. "Oh, Kitten, see, I try not to say bad things." "What?" The grin spread. "I would say size doesn't matter but it does. I would know." he winked, and I let out a disgusted groan. He laughed.

Cat, hmmm? From where I sit you look more like a Kitten." My head jerked around and I shot him an annoyed look. Oh, I was going to enjoy this, all right. "It's Cat," I repeated firmly. "Cat Raven." "Whatever you say, Kitten Tweedy.

Rough Night, Kitten?

You learn to appreciate the fact that what drives you is very different from what you’re told should make you happy. You learn that it’s okay to prefer your personal idea of heaven (live-tweeting zombie movies from under a blanket of kittens) rather than someone else’s idea that fame/fortune/parties are the pinnacle we should all reach for. And there’s something surprisingly freeing about that.

He giggled like a puppy being tickled by a kitten wearing a duckling costume.

I am so tired of this gothic crap,” I muttered. “Just once, I want to meet the villain in a cheerful, brightly lit room. Possibly one with kittens.

That cat doesn't have a lick of sense,' I said, sighing. Well, honey, he's not right in the head,' Dad said, flipping his cigarette into the front yard. I glared at him. 'And just what do you mean by that?' Dad counted on his fingers. 'He's cross-eyed; he jumps out of trees after birds and then doesn't land on his feet; he sleeps with his head smashed up against the wall, and the tip of his tail is crooked.' Oh yeah? Well, how about this: he once got locked in a basement by evil Petey Scroggs in the middle of January and survived on snow and little frozen mice. When I'm cold at night he sleeps right on my face. Of that whole litter of kittens he came out of he's the only one left. One of his brothers didn't even have a butthole.' I stand corrected. PeeDink is a survivor.

I had a dream about you last night... You replaced all the people in your life with kittens. It felt more like a prediction of the future.

I pat her on the head. "Oh, naive little Kitten. Dear, foolish girl. This cookie is worth all this and more. Sit or you will not partake.

I brushed the curtain aside, scowling. Hadn't even spoken to the girl and I felt like a stalker staring out the window, waiting once more...waiting for what? To catch a glimpse of her? Or to better prepare myself for the inevitable meeting? If Dee saw me now, she'd be on the floor laughing. And if Ash saw me right now, she'd scratch out my eyes and blast my new neighbor into outer space.

Is this a trial of thoughts, or of kittens?' demanded the Woggle-Bug. 'It's a trial of one kitten,' replied the Scarecrow; 'but your manner is a trial to us all.

I stare past her at the inspirational kitten posters. There's one of a soaking-wet kitten climbing out of a toilet with the caption "it could be worse!" "Just tell me whatever it is you're thinking," Mrs. Paulsen says. "Whatever is going through your mind right now." "I hope they didn't actually drop a cat in the toilet to get that picture," I choke out. "...Pardon?" "Nothing. Sorry.

I’m going to destroy the goddamn universe with my irrational joy and I will spew forth pictures of clumsy kittens and baby puppies adopted by raccoons and MOTHERFUCKING NEWBORN LLAMAS DIPPED IN GLITTER AND THE BLOOD OF SEXY VAMPIRES AND IT’S GOING TO BE AWESOME.

Little girls are the nicest things that can happen to people. They are born with a bit of angel-shine about them, and though it wears thin sometimes, there is always enough left to lasso your heart—even when they are sitting in the mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading up the street in Mother’s best clothes. A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter around, and stomp, and make funny noises that frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your mouth, she stands there demure with that special look in her eyes. A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, Beauty standing on its head, and Motherhood dragging a doll by the foot. God borrows from many creatures to make a little girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the stubbornness of a mule, the antics of a monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the curiosity of a cat, the speed of a gazelle, the slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten, and to top it all off He adds the mysterious mind of a woman. A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses, small animals, first grade, noisemakers, the girl next door, dolls, make-believe, dancing lessons, ice cream, kitchens, coloring books, make-up, cans of water, going visiting, tea parties, and one boy. She doesn’t care so much for visitors, boys in general, large dogs, hand-me-downs, straight chairs, vegetables, snowsuits, or staying in the front yard. She is loudest when you are thinking, the prettiest when she has provoked you, the busiest at bedtime, the quietest when you want to show her off, and the most flirtatious when she absolutely must not get the best of you again. Who else can cause you more grief, joy, irritation, satisfaction, embarrassment, and genuine delight than this combination of Eve, Salome, and Florence Nightingale. She can muss up your home, your hair, and your dignity—spend your money, your time, and your patience—and just when your temper is ready to crack, her sunshine peeks through and you’ve lost again. Yes, she is a nerve-wracking nuisance, just a noisy bundle of mischief. But when your dreams tumble down and the world is a mess—when it seems you are pretty much of a fool after all—she can make you a king when she climbs on your knee and whispers, "I love you best of all!

I guess the important thing is you're safe now... but if you EVER. Make me think you're dead again, I will find you and make you actually dead.

Wrangling the cat into the cage proved interesting, and Josie had several scratches before Clint bent down and let out a menacing growl. The cat took one look at him and with a disdainful sniff, turned to march into the cage.

I'm fucking done with sadness, and I don't know what's up the ass of the universe lately, but I'VE HAD IT. I AM GOING TO BE FURIOUSLY HAPPY, OUT OF SHEER SPITE. Can you hear that? That's me smiling, y'all. I'm smiling so loud you can fucking hear it. I'm going to destroy the goddamn universe with my irrational joy and I will spew forth pictures of clumsy kittens and baby puppies adopted by raccoons and MOTHERFUCKING NEWBORN LLAMAS DIPPED IN GLITTER AND THE BLOOD OF SEXY VAMPIRES AND IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME. In fact, I'm starting a whole movement right now. The FURIOUSLY HAPPY movement. And it's going to be awesome because first of all, we're all going to be VEHEMENTLY happy, and secondly because it will freak the shit out of everyone that hates you because those assholes don't want to see you even vaguely amused, much less furiously happy, and it will make their world turn a little sideways and will probably scare the shit out of them. Which will make you even more happy. Legitimately.

You have like … seven pockets in those pants. Imagine carrying seven pockets with you at the carnival. You can’t. You’d need a purse. Then you’d get on the Zipper and it’d be fine for a minute until your purse popped open and all of your stuff was being poltergeisted around the cage at you like you were a kitten in a dryer full of batteries, and then your phone gave you a black eye. This is all based on real life, by the way.

Redford had read somewhere that cats brought their owners dead birds, rodents, and their own toys because they were trying to teach the stupid humans how to hunt, like they did with their own kittens. From the amount of toys Knievel had brought to him, the cat thought he was absolutely useless.

That’s funny. You would think after being followed and shoved into a dark alley by a stranger, you would be at least a little shaken. Don’t tell me, you are a black belt just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” He laughed soundlessly. “I mean your words do sound brave but your eyes and the fact that you’re trembling like a scared little kitten say something else entirely.” Even though the alley was submerged in darkness and shadows, it was obvious there was a devilish grin stretched across his face...

I rolled my eyes. "Just go get your tattoo before I change me mind, you dirty fuck." Alec waggled his eyebrows. "I'd give you a dirty fuck, kitten.

Jeff’s attention is swiveling between the two of them like he’s watching a game of tennis being played with a kitten’s head instead of a ball.

I was just wondering, what would you say to a pair of kittens?" ""Hi, snack food?

Puppies are cute. I'm fierce!" "Yeah!" Evelyn snorted. "Romas says you're as fierce as a kitten." "A kitten?" Kiera's tone grew more hurt. "I'm not afraid of him, just because he's twelve feet tall and can bench press me with his toes. It's not nice of him to say that

This is one of mommy's friends, buddy," I told Gavin. (...) "You're Mommy's fwiend?" he questioned. Carter just nodded with his mouth open and no sound coming out. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even hear Gavin. Someone could have asked him if he liked to watch gay porn while painting pictures of kittens and he would have nodded his head. Before anyone could react, Gavin pulled back one of his little fists of fury and slammed it right into Carters manhood. He immediately bent over at the waist, clutching his hands between his legs and gasping for breath. "Oh my God! Gavin!" I yelled, as I scrambled over to him, bent down and turned him around to face me while my dad and Liz laughed like hyenas behind me. "What is wrong with you? We don't hit people. EVER," I scolded. While Carter tried to breathe again, my dad managed to stop laughing long enough to apologize. "Sorry, Claire, that's probably my fault. I let Gavin watch "Fight Club" with me last night." "Your fwiends got you sick the other night. You said he was your fwiend," Gavin explained, like it made all the sense in the world. This just made my dad laugh even louder. "Not helping, Dad," I growled through clenched teeth. "You don't make my mommy sick, dicky-punk!" Gavin yelled at Carter, putting his two little fingers up by his eyes, and then pointing them right at Carter just like Liz had done to him earlier. "Jesus Christ," Carter wheezed. "Did he just threaten me?" "Jesus Cwist!" Gavin repeated back.

The size doesn’t matter.” The imp in her, the one that had obviously heard her sister one too many times, retorted, “Funny, I was always told by the girls that it’s all about the size. The bigger, the better.” While her own words didn’t make her blush, his reply did. “I assure you, I have more than enough size to please you, little kitten. And my oral skills are to scream for.

Suddenly, I missed Jenna so much that it was almost a physical ache. I wanted to hold her hand, and hear her say something that would make this whole situation funny instead of incredibly screwed up. Archer would’ve been nice, too. He probably would’ve raised an eyebrow in that annoying/hot way he had, and made a dirty joke about Elodie possessing me. Or Cal. He wouldn’t say anything, but just his presence would make me feel better. And Dad- “Sophie,” Mom said, shaking me out of my reverie. “I don’t…I don’t even know how to start explaining all of this to you.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “I meant to, so many times, but everything was always so…complicated. Do you hate me?” I took a deep breath. “Of course not. I mean, I’m not thrilled. And I totally reserve the right to angst over all this later. But honestly, Mom? Right now, I’m so happy to see you that I wouldn’t care if you’re secretly a ninja sent from the future to destroy kittens and rainbows.” She chuckled, a choked and watery sound. “I missed you so much, Soph.” We hugged, my face against her collarbone. “I want the whole story, though,” I said, my words muffled. “All of it on the table.” She nodded. “Absolutely. After we talk to Aislinn.” Pulling back, I grimaced. “So how exactly are you related to her? Are you guys like, cousins?” “We’re sisters.” I stared at her. “Wait. So you’re like, a Brannick Brannick? But you don’t even have red hair.” Mom got off the bed, twisting her ponytail into a bun. “It’s called dye, Soph. Now, come on. Aislinn is already in a mood.” “Yeah, picked up on that,” I muttered, shoving the covers off and standing up

Mother did not spend all her time in paying dull calls to dull ladies, and sitting dully at home waiting for dull ladies to pay calls to her. She was almost always there, ready to play with the children, and read to them, and help them to do their home-lessons. Besides this she used to write stories for them while they were at school, and read them aloud after tea, and she always made up funny pieces of poetry for their birthdays and for other great occasions, such as the christening of the new kittens, or the refurnishing of the doll's house, or the time when they were getting over the mumps.

Okay, drop.” He nodded in satisfaction at her clean descent. “Again, Harper.” Biting back a curse, she did it again. And again. And again. And a-fucking-gain. “Better. Much better. Now, do it once more. This time, I’m going to ask you to go higher and hold it a lot longer.” When she slumped, Knox arched a brow. “Do you want to try flying or not? We’ll do it today, but only if you master this move.” Harper rolled back her shoulders. “I’ll do it,” she bit out. She wanted to punch him square in the face for grinning at her. “What’s so funny?” “I’m not laughing.” “Not out loud.” “You’re just cute when you’re agitated.” She was back to being a hissing, spitting kitten that amused the hell out of Knox and his demon.

A cemetery?" I chuckle, but the pitch is a bit higher than I expected. "At night? With a full moon? Um ... did you see any, uh, zombies, you, while you were there?" Shiko blinks at me a few times. "No" I slump in relief. "Thank God. I mean, I don't want to be the first to die. The funny guy always dies first, for shock value, you know. Rourke would get killed next, because it's be a heroic sacrifice or something." I motion to Shiko. "You'd live, though, unless you had sex." ... Shiko has the look of an addled kitten, complete with head tilt. Rourke sighs and leans toward her, embarrassed. 'You'll have to excuse him. According to his mother he has an irrational fear of something called the zombie apocalypse." "It's not irrational!

I’ve been allowed to read more grown-up books lately. Eva’s Youth by Nico van Suchtelen is currently keeping me busy. I don’t think there’s much of a difference between this and books for teenage girls. Eva thought that children grew on trees, like apples, and that the stork plucked them off the tree when they were ripe and brought them to the mothers. But her girlfriend’s cat had kittens and Eva saw them coming out of the cat, so she thought cats laid eggs and hatched them like chickens, and that mothers who wanted a child also went upstairs a few days before their time to lay an egg and brood on it. After the babies arrived, the mothers were pretty weak from all that squatting. At some point, Eva wanted a baby too. She took a wool scarf and spread it on the ground so the egg could fall into it, and then she squatted down and began to push. She clucked as she waited, but no egg came out. Finally, after she’d been sitting for a long time, something did come, but it was a sausage instead of an egg. Eva was embarrassed. She thought she was sick. Funny, isn’t it?

Cassian asked, 'What stair did you make it to?' 'One hundred eleven.' Nesta didn't rise. 'Pathetic.' Her fingers pushed into the floor, but her body didn't move. 'This stupid House wouldn't give me wine.' 'I figured that would be the only motivator to make you risk ten thousand stairs.' Her fingers dug into the stone floor once more. He threw her a crooked smile, glad for the distraction. 'You can't get up, can you?' Her arms strained, elbows buckling. 'Go fly into a boulder.' Cassian pushed off the wall and reached her in three strides. He wrapped his hands under her arms and hauled her up. She scowled at him the entire time. Glared at him some more when she swayed and he gripped her tighter, keeping her upright. 'I knew you were out of shape,' he observed, stepping away when she'd proved she wasn't about to collapse, 'but a hundred steps? Really?' 'Two hundred, counting the ones up,' she grumbled. 'Still pathetic.' She straightened her spine and raised her chin. Keep reaching out your hand. Cassian shrugged, turning toward the hall and the stairwell that would take him up to his rooms. 'If you get tired of being weak as a mewling kitten, come to training.' He glanced over a shoulder. Nesta still panted, her face flushed and furious. 'And participate.

11 Funny Things to Do on an Elevator Say “DING” on every floor. Walk in with a small cooler and let everyone know there is a human heart in it. Make meow sounds like a kitten. Every time someone pushes a button make a small explosion noise. Every few seconds open your briefcase or purse just a crack, peer in and say “Do you have enough air in there?” Stand facing into a corner with your back to everyone and at every stop clap your hands and say yippee! Act real surprised, as if you passed gas and announce to everyone “Excuse me!” Slap your face and say, “Hush!  All of you, be quiet!” Put a puppet on one hand and talk to other passengers with it. With your finger, draw an imaginary square on the floor, step in it and tell everyone this is your private space. Keep muttering to yourself, “it’s okay…. you can do this.…it’s okay.…we’re almost there….

A big furry creature that purrs while it sits on your lap and squashes you!

Because he's in a bad mewd!

What do kittens like to eat for breakfast?

I’ve never once kicked a kitten,” he said dryly. “I did punch a parakeet once. But he was asking for it.” She shot him a look. “I’m sorry. Did you just make a joke?” “I’m one of those funny grouches,” he insisted.

Why should idiots keep hairdryers away from their ears? Because they’ll blow their mind! What do you call a theme park for kittens? A mews-ment park! Why are chickens so rude? Because they’re all fowl-mouthed! What do you call a cow for sale? Afford-a-bull! What do you call a cow with plastic horns? Like-a-bull! Who are the most patient people in the world? Queue-waitees!

Balls!" she shouted in Lingian. Then she jumped as Lovisa's curious voice spoke behind her. "What does balls mean?" "Balls," Bitterblue replied in frustration, as if that were an explanation. Then she said the word in Keepish, but Lovisa was clearly unenlightened. "Like, balls to play a game with?" said Lovisa. "is that a swear word in Lingian?" "No!" said Bitterblue. "Like a man's scrotum!" "Oh! You call that balls?" "Yes!" "We call it kittens," said Lovisa. "Because they're so delicate." This undid Bitterblue.

Assaulting a police officer? Angel face in there? The kid is the personification of a basket of kittens. What did he assault him with? Kindness?" Linc's lips twitched as he tried to keep a straight face. "A twelve-inch black dildo known as the 'hole wrecker'.

Sometimes stories start with a bang, and sometimes stories start with a whisper, and sometimes stories start with a robbery or a car chase or a fistfight or someone being born or someone dying. Sometimes stories start with a kitten. I mean, the funny thing about stories is that they don’t really start or stop at all. It’s just the telling that starts or stops.

Sometimes stories start with a bang, and sometimes stories start with a whisper, and sometimes stories start with a robbery or a car chase or a fistfight or someone being born or someone dying. Sometimes stories start with a kitten. I mean, the funny thing about stories is that they don’t really start or stop at all. It’s just the telling that starts or stops.

Also, I'm way more important to the band than him. I'm the front man. I stand in front." You'd think she was trying to murder kittens instead of making a more concentrated effort to help Cal feel like he can open up a little. Honestly, Zac should be thanking her, and instead she gets this. "You strut around on the stage gyrating like you're fucking ghosts against an imaginary wall in front of everyone. That's not important.

You're intriguing,' Hawke commented as Setti trotted ahead of Airrick. 'Intriguing is your favourite word,' I told him. 'It is when I'm around you.' I let myself grin because no one was watching, and I wanted to. 'Why am I intriguing now?' 'When are you not intriguing?' he said. 'You aren't afraid of Descenters or Craven, but you're shuddering like a wet kitten at the mere mention of a barrat.

Ellery made good on his threat to put on his pajamas—warm flannel, soft as a kitten’s ass. Jackson had actually gotten to sleep a couple of nights by petting those damned pajamas.

It's all right," he murmured into her ear. "Just think how beautiful our kits will be. They'll finally be able to kick you from the outside instead of the inside.

And when funny things happen, you just have to go along, don't you? Because they might never happen again and you'll have missed the joke of it, missed the fun, and then when you're old and your kittens ask you what you did when the world had its glad rags on, you won't have nothing to say, will you?

chair, expecting to hear Bridget McCloud’s voice rise in greeting. She leaned against the wall between the kitchen and dining room and tried to catch her breath.  Why was she so surprised? Two and a half weeks in Pilgrim Cove couldn’t erase a lifetime of love and memories. The heavy silence, however, reinforced her new reality. She was alone. A feeling which seemed much stronger here than at Sea View House. And not because of the kitten.  Laura walked slowly to her bedroom and automatically began to undress. During her time in Pilgrim Cove, she’d gotten involved with people. Funny, how she seemed so connected to the town after

What…the…” I breathed. “You were married to…” I blinked. “Wait,” I said to my mother, “you were married?” “To your father,” my mother returned. “Until he died.” “Then does that mean…” I blinked again, and turned to Reed, who gave me a shrug and a shake of the head. “You’re my brother?” Reed nodded. “Half, anyway.” Kat spoke up, drawing my attention along with everyone else’s. “What…the hell is going on here? Can I go yet?” “Stay where you are, Kitten,” my mother snapped at her. “My name is Kat!” A withering glare from my mother caused Kat to flinch. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, chastened. “So Sienna and this dude are brother and sister?” Clary piped up from behind me. “Cuz I thought I caught ro-mantic tension between them. Heh,” he guffawed. “Guess it’s more like BRO-mantic tension!” He burst out in uncontrolled laughter which was echoed by no one. “What?” He turned to Bastian. “Roberto, that is funny! Come on!” I turned to Reed. “All this time you’ve been playing Leia to my Luke and you never told me?” He frowned. “What? I’m totally Luke. You’re the girl. Can you make objects move through the air?” He raised his finger and I felt a gust of wind blow my hair. “No? I’m Luke. You’re Leia. Get it straight.” “So who’s Han Solo?” Clary asked seriously. “And Darth Vader?” “I’m going to kill every last one of you pathetic geeks,” my mother said. “And I’m not even going to be nice about it. I’m going to just start draining souls. Will you please stop with the moronic Star Wars references? The movies came out in the 1970s. Most of you weren’t even born then. Move on with your lives.