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I got mad one time, tho—some dude at a parlor was like, “No happy ending, bro,” and I’m like, “What’s the point then, fam?!” False advertising, straight-up! But when it’s good? Oh man, HAPPY ain’t the word—fuckin’ *euphoric*! Like, “This is the trick!”—straight outta *The Great Beauty*, when Jep’s chasin’ that high. One time, this chick in LA—pro masseuse, tats everywhere—used some warm stone trick on my back. Thought I’d levitate, swear to God! Little secret: them stones? Old-school tantra shit, heats up the chi or whatever. Blew my damn mind.

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I climb the tree, and let me tell ya, I’m not exactly a pro at tree climbing. I’m sweating bullets, and my coffee’s sloshing everywhere. Finally, I reach Mr. Whiskers. He’s just chillin’ up there, looking down at me like, “What’s the fuss?” I grab him, and the crowd goes wild. I’m feeling like a rockstar, but then I slip. Yup, I’m hanging on for dear life, and Mr. Whiskers is just purring. I finally get down, and everyone’s cheering. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just a cat!” But hey, I’ll take the applause.

Al Jaffee's MAD Life: how a traumatized kid from the shtetl became an American satire icon