A Cat of Klingons-$25

Who:
Meet Munchkin.
She hates cats.
She hates dogs.
She has a ceasefire with raccoons.
She can only count to two. This is the number of humans she will tolerate.
She is an expert in torture tactics.
Munchkin stations herself outside my doors and windows all day and night crying to come inside.
Her campaign has lasted since late October. A housesitter let her in during freezing temperatures in December.
Munchkin believes this is now her house, despite hating all of the people and animals natively residing in it.
She tried to kick us all out.
Her meow could curdle blood. It’s the horrendous murp of an unseen predator you dread is stalking you for impending disembowelment. Nope, just Munchkin.
Munchkin will effect a beguiling meow when she has caught prey to barter her entry. The subject is still alive, they are staging a coup. Keep your house key and a projectile handy.
The tail has been that way since birth. She has a weirdly stiff tail that doesn’t bend at the center. She was born a street cat, raised a trailer cat, and lived a hard life where others neglected her care long enough to put her on Death’s doorstep.

Munchkin’s demands:
A lap.
Food.
Pets and head scritches, not to exceed five seconds on at any single session. Successive sessions are fine, but they should be spaced at no less than 30 seconds to enforce her superiority in the relationship.
The option to go outside, but not necessarily the fulfillment. Just a prospect she can lord over you to make up for past neglect other human’s deserve to be tolled, yet you are the one tasked with it.
To be referred to as THE Admiral, Munch’aj (this is where the Klingon promise gets fulfilled). Only one allowed. Her. Stars are just for stargazers and tree-huggers, whom she eats for snackies. This is a lifetime appointment, she could easily pull off another 10-30 years, as all proper dictators do.

Why:
Munchkin was literally dumped on me four months ago. I know her history because she is a cat owned by relatives who could not keep her in two separate instances where she was not held as the Grand Asshole she is. My setup is not conducive to her happiness or perpetual survival.
This living creature does not deserve to be put down solely for my inability to bring her into my home and make her mine. She’s an asshole, yes, yet she is extremely affectionate when her terms have been met. Indoor shelter and a fluffy lap or blanket.

She’s fixed and has a clean bill of health.
She comes with some self-heating mats, food, and a litter box.

If you have somehow made it this far and are interested in Munch’aj, feel free to e-mail.
Serious inquiries only, please, though questions are welcome. My heart can only hold so much hope.