COLORADO — Lauren Boebert has apparently finished being annoyed about the ethics gossip surrounding her love life and entered the next completely reasonable stage of conflict resolution:

1980s Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

The Canton Cat has obtained absolutely no footage whatsoever of Boebert standing on a Colorado mountaintop in tactical sunglasses, ammunition belts over both shoulders, whispering:

“They lied about my love life. Big mistake.”

Thunder cracked.

An eagle screamed.

Three journalists simultaneously checked whether their homeowners insurance covered congressional vengeance.

Boebert has now declared war on every reporter, blogger, activist, anonymous source, group-chat goblin and unemployed guy with a Substack who helped spread the claims.

Not metaphorical war.

Boebert war.

The kind where somebody opens a gun safe and the camera needs to switch to panoramic mode.

According to Canton Cat sources, Boebert walked into campaign headquarters, slammed a giant duffel bag onto the conference table and announced:

“I want names.”

An aide nervously opened the bag.

Inside were 14 rifles, six pistols, two shotguns, a pocket Constitution, beef jerky, and a receipt from Bass Pro Shops long enough to qualify as federal legislation.

“Congresswoman,” the aide whispered, “maybe we should issue a strongly worded statement.”

Boebert slowly put on aviators.

“This is the strongly worded statement.”

The Cat immediately crawled beneath a Ford F-150.

Things reportedly escalated when somebody reminded Boebert that she should probably wait until after reelection before launching her campaign of extremely constitutional vengeance.

She nodded.

Fair point.

America has procedures.

So the new unofficial campaign message became:

BOEBERT 2026

RE-ELECT ME.

THEN ENJOY THE FIREWORKS.

The campaign reportedly tested several alternative slogans:

“Make Journalism Nervous Again.”

“Come With Me If You Want to Keep Your Press Pass.”

“Hasta La Vista, Clickbait.”

And the early favorite:

“I’LL BE BACK — AFTER THE GENERAL ELECTION.”

The Canton Cat asked whether this meant Boebert was literally planning revenge with firearms.

Campaign staff clarified that she was simply “expressing herself in her native language: Second Amendment.”

Fair enough.

Boebert then unveiled a giant corkboard containing photographs of everyone who had repeated the allegations.

CNN.

MSNBC.

Bloggers.

Random X accounts.

A guy named Kevin who reposted something without reading it.

One Facebook aunt.

Wikipedia.

The entire board was connected with red yarn and surrounded by ammunition boxes.

“Is this evidence?” asked an aide.

“No,” said Boebert.

“It’s my Christmas card list.”

Meanwhile, congressional HR has reportedly received separate instructions regarding staffing:

STOP HIRING PEOPLE.

Immediately.

No interns.

No legislative assistants.

No communications directors.

No suspiciously attractive policy fellows.

Nobody.

The office vacancy notice now reads:

LAUREN BOEBERT FOR CONGRESS

CURRENT OPENINGS:

None.

Absolutely fucking none.

Please stop asking.

The Canton Cat understands the logic.

“When your alleged love life is already being diagrammed like the Kennedy assassination,” he said, “the last thing you need is another box on the org chart.”

One applicant reportedly arrived for an interview anyway.

Security immediately handed him a brochure reading:

THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST.

WE HAVE ENOUGH PEOPLE.

GO HOME.

By lunchtime, Boebert had allegedly completed her transformation into Colorado’s answer to the Terminator.

Leather jacket.

Sunglasses.

Pickup truck.

Enough firearms to make the opening credits 45 minutes long.

She marched toward the press corps while an aide desperately followed behind carrying liability waivers.

A reporter shouted:

“Congresswoman! Any response to the allegations?”

Boebert stopped.

Turned slowly.

Removed her sunglasses.

And said:

“Yes.”

Everyone waited.

She put the sunglasses back on.

“Hell to pay.”

Then she walked away while something exploded behind her for absolutely no reason.

The Canton Cat watched from his dumpster.

“Now THAT,” he said, “is constituent services.”

At press time, Boebert’s campaign had reportedly ordered 40,000 bumper stickers:

BOEBERT: COME FOR THE SECOND AMENDMENT.

STAY BECAUSE EVERY JOURNALIST JUST HID BEHIND A TREE.

And somewhere in Colorado, Arnold Schwarzenegger quietly whispered:

“Jesus Christ, lady. Dial it back.”

Sorry, Arnold. Not happening.