CAT STORIES
I love cats. I was in my late forties before I first lived with a cat and the experience was somehow life changing. It took him about three hours to establish that he would a. Lay where here wanted to lay, b. Go where he wanted to go, and c. Get what he wanted to have, and that I was there merely to facilitate the process.
With that in mind, I offer here one of my many stories about cats.
CAT STORIES
By Jim Bronaugh
Jim hunkered down behind a trash dumpster when he saw Officer Thompson enter the alley. It wouldn't do to have fat stinky butt 'Tommy’ Thompson catch him eating a cat and drawing his little pictures in their blood.
He strained to remain motionless and quiet as the cop slowly sauntered up the dirty path between old boxes and empty barrels that were strewn everywhere.
The buildings on either side of the alley were empty and because of it the alley was unused, which made it a perfect location to dine unseen. He still had enough of a grip on reality to know that his proclivity would have to remain hidden, or the consequences would destroy him.
A second later he saw the reason that the jerk cop was here. Tommy stepped behind a dumpster and began to take a piss on the wall. So cops had to piss too? You couldn't have guessed it from their attitude, but you couldn't have guessed that there was much human in them either.
Finally, drained and relieved, the cop zipped up and started for the street. Too much caffeine makes 'Tommy' a grumpy boy.
Jim turned his attention back to the cat he held in his hands. Its little liver was exposed and beckoning to him. He extracted it with his teeth and savored the sweet bitter taste. It was almost as good as the liver from his favorite food. Cats were harder to catch than children, but they had the additional benefit that no on called out a search party for a missing cat.
He suddenly felt envious of those people in China who could take and eat all the children they wanted without having to answer all of those stupid questions. You would get dead real quick if they caught you doing that here.
He tried gnawing on some of the muscle tissue, but it was too stringy and too tough for him to rip off. He started to get angry because of the effort and getting angry just started him off on his garbled speech and also started the visions. He didn't need any Angels talking to him right now.
He needed to find a litter of kittens. That was where the tender stuff was. The taste of Sweet tiny kittens with soft muscles and no claws set him to thinking of the children again, and he shook it off quickly.
He dropped the cat into the dumpster and wiped his hands off on an old newspaper. He straightened up his clothes and brushed his hair into place with his hands. He was, after all, a world famous writer with an obligation to present himself at his best to the public.
The End
With that in mind, I offer here one of my many stories about cats.
CAT STORIES
By Jim Bronaugh
Jim hunkered down behind a trash dumpster when he saw Officer Thompson enter the alley. It wouldn't do to have fat stinky butt 'Tommy’ Thompson catch him eating a cat and drawing his little pictures in their blood.
He strained to remain motionless and quiet as the cop slowly sauntered up the dirty path between old boxes and empty barrels that were strewn everywhere.
The buildings on either side of the alley were empty and because of it the alley was unused, which made it a perfect location to dine unseen. He still had enough of a grip on reality to know that his proclivity would have to remain hidden, or the consequences would destroy him.
A second later he saw the reason that the jerk cop was here. Tommy stepped behind a dumpster and began to take a piss on the wall. So cops had to piss too? You couldn't have guessed it from their attitude, but you couldn't have guessed that there was much human in them either.
Finally, drained and relieved, the cop zipped up and started for the street. Too much caffeine makes 'Tommy' a grumpy boy.
Jim turned his attention back to the cat he held in his hands. Its little liver was exposed and beckoning to him. He extracted it with his teeth and savored the sweet bitter taste. It was almost as good as the liver from his favorite food. Cats were harder to catch than children, but they had the additional benefit that no on called out a search party for a missing cat.
He suddenly felt envious of those people in China who could take and eat all the children they wanted without having to answer all of those stupid questions. You would get dead real quick if they caught you doing that here.
He tried gnawing on some of the muscle tissue, but it was too stringy and too tough for him to rip off. He started to get angry because of the effort and getting angry just started him off on his garbled speech and also started the visions. He didn't need any Angels talking to him right now.
He needed to find a litter of kittens. That was where the tender stuff was. The taste of Sweet tiny kittens with soft muscles and no claws set him to thinking of the children again, and he shook it off quickly.
He dropped the cat into the dumpster and wiped his hands off on an old newspaper. He straightened up his clothes and brushed his hair into place with his hands. He was, after all, a world famous writer with an obligation to present himself at his best to the public.
The End
posted by Jim Bronaugh | 11:00 PM
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