Fairly decent drughead artistic statement about ancient Egyptian cat cults on the loose in Austin, Texas. As the poster says, "when they rub against your leg, YOU cough up the hairball!" It's the story of what would happen if somebody's grandma unleashed the power of the 4,000- year-old Keshra Cat Sphinx, which looks exactly like one of those cheap black cat statues you can buy in art museums. One of those turns up in an attic, and pretty soon the ancient Cat Goddess is commanding cats to fling themselves off telephone poles and railroad bridges, committing caticide so that Keshra might have absolute power. Then the dead cats turn into nekkid women that walk around on their tiptoes and rub up against corduroy. They all get together in the house with the Keshra statue thingy, like a low-budget sorority, and then they spread out, mate with unsuspecting males, rip out their guts, and leave em splayed out on the ground with an ear-to-ear grin. Their goal: a race of Texas Cat People. Fortunately, there's a licensed "cat finder" in the area, a guy who drives around in a pickup with a vacuum cleaner strapped to his back, listening for cat brain waves so he can . . . uh . . . do something! Three dead bodies. Twenty-two dead cats. Thirty-two breasts. Multiple aardvarking. Multiple catvarking. Breast-stabbing. Cat interrogation. Brahma bull Fu. Water pistol Fu. With Gary Graves as the goofball cat finder with the radar device ("This has gotta be some lunatic with a backpack full of cat heads"), Dave Cox as the hapless hitchhiker who gets bumped out of a pickup truck and falls in love with a girl who turns out to be a cat ("Jesus! Egyptian cat cults?"), Carrie Vanston as the first actress ever to actually cough up a furball on camera. Written by Grace Smith and Scott Perry, and directed by Perry, who came up with lines like "Cats killed my grandfather!"