Ollie and Moseley part 1

Stand up Comedian monologue, Vary vocal live audience that claps, yells and whistles, No music

So I have two cats - Ollie and Moseley. And let me tell you, they're like roommates who never pay rent but somehow run the entire house. Actually, that's not accurate. They're more like... the mob.
Ollie is the boss. He's this big orange tabby built like a linebacker - when you pick him up, it's like lifting a couple of beef briskets. This cat 
is ALL MUSSEL, And he runs everything with an iron paw. He decides when you eat, where you sit, what you're allowed to do. Classic mob boss behavior.
Moseley is the soldier. He's this gorgeous white ragdoll with blue eyes and a gray mask - basically the supermodel hitman of the operation. This cat KNOWS he's beautiful and uses it as cover. He'll splay himself across our black grand piano like he's posing for Vogue, but don't be fooled. He's waiting for orders from Ollie.
Now, Moseley uses his beauty to get what he wants. He'll hop on the kitchen island near the treat jar, throw his paws around your neck, and do this head-touch thing like, "I MUST have a treat." It's emotional manipulation at its finest.
Ollie has a different approach. He uses intimidation. I'll be in the pantry minding my own business, and suddenly I feel these two fangs gently pressing into my calves. Not biting - just a warning. Like, "Hey. Remember me? The Don? The one who controls the food situation around here?"
And Ollie supervises EVERYTHING. You want to use the bathroom? Ollie's coming with you. He'll sit there staring you down like, "This is the weirdest litter box I've ever seen, but I'm here for moral support... or to make sure you're not holding out on me."
But here's the thing about Ollie - he's VERY vocal about his management style. This cat has a full range of vocalizations. He's got your basic meows and chirps,. But here's the thing about their communication styles - they're completely different. Ollie talks like a stereotypical mob boss. He's VERY vocal about his management decisions. This cat will sit there and go "Mrow mrow mrow mrow mrow" - but with this gravelly, demanding inflection. It sounds like he's saying, "Listen here, see? You're gonna give me the treats, and you're gonna give 'em to me NOW, capisce?" I'll be like, "Ollie, I don't speak cat," and he'll just repeat himself LOUDER, like I'm some dummy who doesn't understand how the family business works.
Moseley, on the other hand, communicates like an Ivy League professor. His meows are refined, articulated. He'll do this sophisticated little "mew" that sounds like he's saying, "I do believe it's time for our afternoon repast, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps something from the upper shelf?" Very dignified. Very proper. Like he's got a PhD in being beautiful.
And when they talk to each other? It's like watching The Godfather meets Masterpiece-Theatre.
Ollie will be going "MROW MROW MROW!" which clearly translates to "Hey! You see dat fly over dere? I want dat fly taken care of, if you know what I mean. Make it disappear."
And Moseley responds with this polite little "Mew." Like, "Certainly, sir. Consider it handled."
Then Ollie: "MROW MROW!" - "And another ting! Dat sock! Bring me dat sock from upstairs! Tonight we play!"
Moseley: "Mew mew." - "Of course. Right away."
It's like watching a Harvard graduate take orders from Tony Soprano. Moseley never argues, never questions the boss. Just these polite, dignified little acknowledgments while Ollie runs the whole operation with his gravelly demands.
Now, these cats are SPOILED. I'm talking top-notch everything. Organic food, multiple cat trees throughout the house, a seven hundred dollar robotic litterbox expensive toys gathering dust everywhere. I've spent hundreds of dollars on cat entertainment systems.
But here's where it gets weird - they both lose their minds over the cheapest toys. I can buy them a twenty dollar robotic mouse that chirps and moves, and they'll look at it like, "What is this garbage? Do we look like amateurs?" But a dollar roll of butcher's twine? THAT'S entertainment. Moseley has unraveled that thing throughout the entire house. It goes up the stairs, over the banister, around the toilet, through table legs. It's like cable TV for cats.
Meanwhile, there's a fifty dollar interactive puzzle feeder just sitting there, untouched, probably thinking, "I have a master's degree in cat psychology and they're playing with TWINE."
And don't get me started on boxes. Every box that comes into this house belongs to Ollie. He'll sit on it before it's even opened, claiming ownership. If Moseley tries to use any box, he gets evicted. Roughly.
So I made them a compromise - I took a big box, turned it upside down, cut a door and three holes in the top. Now it's like whack-a-mole. Moseley goes inside, pokes his head up through a hole, and Ollie smacks him back down. Classic mob enforcement. When they switch positions? Ollie pokes his head up, Moseley just stares at him. Won't hit back. Even the soldier knows you don't mess with the boss.

Now, our house has hardwood floors, and this creates a competitive advantage situation. Both cats have these little toe beans, but Ollie's are like fuzzy slippers - no traction at high speeds. Moseley's are like basketball sneakers with perfect grip. So when they're chasing each other, Moseley can take corners like he's in the Fast and Furious, while Ollie spins out and crashes into furniture like he's on ice.

5376/7500

So I have two cats - Ollie and Moseley. And let me tell you, they're like roommates who never pay rent but somehow run the entire house. Actually, that's not accurate. They're more like... the mob. Ollie is the boss. He's this big orange tabby built like a linebacker - when you pick him up, it's like lifting a couple of beef briskets. This cat is ALL MUSSEL, And he runs everything with an iron paw. He decides when you eat, where you sit, what you're allowed to do. Classic mob boss behavior. Moseley is the soldier. He's this gorgeous white ragdoll with blue eyes and a gray mask - basically the supermodel hitman of the operation. This cat KNOWS he's beautiful and uses it as cover. He'll splay himself across our black grand piano like he's posing for Vogue, but don't be fooled. He's waiting for orders from Ollie. Now, Moseley uses his beauty to get what he wants. He'll hop on the kitchen island near the treat jar, throw his paws around your neck, and do this head-touch thing like, "I MUST have a treat." It's emotional manipulation at its finest. Ollie has a different approach. He uses intimidation. I'll be in the pantry minding my own business, and suddenly I feel these two fangs gently pressing into my calves. Not biting - just a warning. Like, "Hey. Remember me? The Don? The one who controls the food situation around here?" And Ollie supervises EVERYTHING. You want to use the bathroom? Ollie's coming with you. He'll sit there staring you down like, "This is the weirdest litter box I've ever seen, but I'm here for moral support... or to make sure you're not holding out on me." But here's the thing about Ollie - he's VERY vocal about his management style. This cat has a full range of vocalizations. He's got your basic meows and chirps,. But here's the thing about their communication styles - they're completely different. Ollie talks like a stereotypical mob boss. He's VERY vocal about his management decisions. This cat will sit there and go "Mrow mrow mrow mrow mrow" - but with this gravelly, demanding inflection. It sounds like he's saying, "Listen here, see? You're gonna give me the treats, and you're gonna give 'em to me NOW, capisce?" I'll be like, "Ollie, I don't speak cat," and he'll just repeat himself LOUDER, like I'm some dummy who doesn't understand how the family business works. Moseley, on the other hand, communicates like an Ivy League professor. His meows are refined, articulated. He'll do this sophisticated little "mew" that sounds like he's saying, "I do believe it's time for our afternoon repast, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps something from the upper shelf?" Very dignified. Very proper. Like he's got a PhD in being beautiful. And when they talk to each other? It's like watching The Godfather meets Masterpiece-Theatre. Ollie will be going "MROW MROW MROW!" which clearly translates to "Hey! You see dat fly over dere? I want dat fly taken care of, if you know what I mean. Make it disappear." And Moseley responds with this polite little "Mew." Like, "Certainly, sir. Consider it handled." Then Ollie: "MROW MROW!" - "And another ting! Dat sock! Bring me dat sock from upstairs! Tonight we play!" Moseley: "Mew mew." - "Of course. Right away." It's like watching a Harvard graduate take orders from Tony Soprano. Moseley never argues, never questions the boss. Just these polite, dignified little acknowledgments while Ollie runs the whole operation with his gravelly demands. Now, these cats are SPOILED. I'm talking top-notch everything. Organic food, multiple cat trees throughout the house, a seven hundred dollar robotic litterbox expensive toys gathering dust everywhere. I've spent hundreds of dollars on cat entertainment systems. But here's where it gets weird - they both lose their minds over the cheapest toys. I can buy them a twenty dollar robotic mouse that chirps and moves, and they'll look at it like, "What is this garbage? Do we look like amateurs?" But a dollar roll of butcher's twine? THAT'S entertainment. Moseley has unraveled that thing throughout the entire house. It goes up the stairs, over the banister, around the toilet, through table legs. It's like cable TV for cats. Meanwhile, there's a fifty dollar interactive puzzle feeder just sitting there, untouched, probably thinking, "I have a master's degree in cat psychology and they're playing with TWINE." And don't get me started on boxes. Every box that comes into this house belongs to Ollie. He'll sit on it before it's even opened, claiming ownership. If Moseley tries to use any box, he gets evicted. Roughly. So I made them a compromise - I took a big box, turned it upside down, cut a door and three holes in the top. Now it's like whack-a-mole. Moseley goes inside, pokes his head up through a hole, and Ollie smacks him back down. Classic mob enforcement. When they switch positions? Ollie pokes his head up, Moseley just stares at him. Won't hit back. Even the soldier knows you don't mess with the boss. Now, our house has hardwood floors, and this creates a competitive advantage situation. Both cats have these little toe beans, but Ollie's are like fuzzy slippers - no traction at high speeds. Moseley's are like basketball sneakers with perfect grip. So when they're chasing each other, Moseley can take corners like he's in the Fast and Furious, while Ollie spins out and crashes into furniture like he's on ice.

0/500