The Cat Is Trying to Kill Me...I Swear!

I own (Ha!) two small furry terrorists. Their names are George and Stumpy Pete. NO, George is not named after the great unwashed bastard who sits in unearned splendor at 1600 Pensyvania Ave. He's named after George Harrison, he's jet black, and the "Dark Horse" name of Harrison's record label made me think of it. Stumpy Pete, well, here's a shot of the little monster:

The stumpy part came because he's got about an inch of a tail. He and his brothers and sisters were found on I90 after some asshole tossed them in a sack out of the car while going down the freeway.
(NOTE TO WHOEVER DID THAT- If I EVER find you, I will kick your ass seven ways to Sunday!)
Ahem, yes, Pete's tail didn't survive but the rest of him came out fine.
He's nuts. He'll sit there and cry his little heart out because he's not being petted, and then two seconds later, he's trying to remove George's throat. He's also a serious 'nip addict. Hard core junkie.
Why and how is he trying to kill me?
The why is unknown to me, the how is getting creative for a cat.
1)The easiest way for a feline to kill a human is the ol' "trip 'em while they're carrying stuff", if not a broken leg, they at least wreck the groceries. He's REAL good at this.
2)The "leap when they ain't lookin'" bit. Yes, when I stagger out in the morning sans caffiene, a 13 pound cat attempting to land on my head is a GREAT wake up. Of course his balance is shot so he flicks the claws in a vain attempt to hang on. Oooh yes. Bactine and Bandaids to go with breakfast! Some times he waits too long before he tries it, and I'm ready for him.
Now does he want to injure me doing this?
No.
He wants to sit with me on my shoulder.
When he was a 13 ounce kitten it was fine.
Now it's kinda tricky.
It's kind of startling, but not too bad.
3)"Can I give my human a heart attack"? This one takes some setup. He waited the other day until I'd gotten my cereal and milk all set, and had sat down to read the paper.
Now George will usually just yowl and yip a bit in the morning, and Pete gives me a few cries.
There's George....being cool and trying to fit underneath my computer desk's shelf.
Where's Pete?
A quick glance to the sofa.
Not there.
The food bowl?
No.
He didn't go into the fireplace, did HE?
No.
Hmmmm...where is the little tyrant?
The windowsill?
Nope.
Hmmm, well, I'll just read my paper and take a spoonful of Peanut Butter Crunch and WHAM!!!
Dipshit has leapt off of the fridge, over my head, and landed with one paw in the cereal, and the other three frantically trying to hold on.
You ever had a cat exploding out of your cereal before?
I haven't.
Heart rate?
About 283 beats a second.


How much can I get for an ordinary housecat for medical experiments?
I can pay them if needed.