Friday, March 13, 2009

Friday the 13th Demons Got Me

I knew something was different when I woke up. It seemed like I had slept DEEP.
You, know, the kind of deep sleep aliens put you into just before they stick a big, cold, shiney, stainless steel probe up your butt...and then erase your memory.

So, not knowing any better, and forgetting what day it was, I thought it was a good feeling.
I put the kettle on, warmed up my laptop, lit a cigar and started to look in my favorite places on the WWW for Israeli Atrocities I could showcase on my blog.

The sound of cats either being raped or murdered outside my window blasted me off my chair and outside to see tufts of fur being thrown into the air from behind a tall daisy hedge. The dozen or so tufts continued their upward travel by catching a morning sun thermal.

The yeeooowling was a constant, though modulating wail and the tufts continued to rise as I looked over the daisy hedge to see a cartoon image of a yeeooowling blur of what I guessed had to be two cats in a mid-air cyclone of screaming, clawing, and flying body parts.
Honestly, I don't think they ever touched ground. I think they had reached the point where their bodies had become a sort of helicopter or propeller and they just spun in mid-air.
I was mezmerized. It was the most amazing and entertaining thing I ever expected to see.

But then my beautiful next door neighbor opened her door and began to scream. She obviously thought part of the cyclone was hers.

Where it comes from I don't know, but there I was, watching myself approach the tumbling ball of sharp teeth and nails, intent on saving her cat.
So I kicked at it.
Now she was screaming and firing indignant and outraged photon torpedoes of death at me from her blue eyed missle silos.
All the while, my slipper had sailed off my foot and landed harmlessly on the hood of her car about 30 feet away.
Not about to give up, I did the next thing my quickly cramping brain could think of and threw my cigar at the spinning cats.

That did it, she came charging out of her doorway screaming at either at me or the cats...I still don't know which.
But the cats stopped and ran about 10 feet and and stood with their backs arched, hissing and growling at the same time and then BOOOM, for no reason or signal I was able to discern they were instantly a levitating ball of screaming fury again.

A dozen random thoughts came and went: of the garden hose coiled in the garage for the winter, throwing my hat, throwing the garbage can, stomping...I'd already tried yelling.
While I was standing there frozen, my beautiful neighbor walked to the ball of cats and somehow came out with her cat. She paid a price, but she got him.
It was at that moment, I found some more courage and ran after the Terrorist Cat...and he ran too. But then he stopped at the fence and turned around and it seemed like he kind of dared me and said "Okay Pal, let's do it". So I pulled up short and we had a little shouting and stomping and hissing match that I finally won when he jumped through the hole in the fence.

For several weeks, I had been trying to develop a relationship with my neighbor, it was only yesterday that she had asked: "Hey, when are we gonna have a barbeque?" I had been stunned. I'd had no idea I was so close to success.

But as I turned around from winning my standoff with the Bad Cat, I could see the look in her eyes and it meant my stock had fallen into the worthless range.
Sure, she thanked me and was nice, but I could tell she had more respect for the bad cat than me. She wasn't looking in my eyes anymore.
I decided against bringing up the barbeque. It just seemed like I would even look more lame.

As I sit here thinking about all the things I could have done, I think I should have run to the garage, grabbed my .380 semi-auto and shot that fucking cat.
Sure I'd be in jail for the weekend, but when I got out, I bet we'd have had that barbeque.


  1. Or you could keep one of those automated weapon type squirt guns handy - water really does the trick, but somehow a hose seems overload.

    You are very funny.

  2. I am a Boy Scout (once a scout, always a scout), but try as I might, I'm just not prepared for everything.

    I once thought all I had to know was how to build a good fire and share my Hobo Dinner with my favorite Campfire Girl.

  3. Creativity beats out preparedness (almost) every time.

  4. ahh...there is wisdom in that and your comment put a smile on my face.