"Be afraid. Be very afraid." - The Fly

I had a little incident happen this morning, as I was getting ready to leave for work, that I'd like to share with all of you!

We recently started putting my cat Soprano and her kittens outside, because the weather has been so nice. Well apparently she doesn't love that and always rushes to get inside, like she absolutley can't stand it and refuses to be put there. Yesterday when I got back from work she was right there scratching at the utility room door, and then rushed in and started gobbling her food down like she'd been starving for weeks and I felt bad because I thought "Oh man, have we spoiled her so much that she's forgotten how to hunt?'

Well this morning I'm walking out the door all excited because I'm leaving with enought time to get to work on schedule, and here comes Soprano gunning for the door with non other then a dead mouse in her mouth, and then wham right past me into the house!

Well then I start freakin' out because she brought this stupid mouse corpse into the house and not only am I going to have to wrangle her up and put her outside again, but I'm also going to have to clean up what ever mouse mess she's left behind!

I thought about just leaving, after all it's more important to be on time, and then I thought about the lecture I'd get from the parent's, and I chose dealing with my supervisor instead!

I threw my stuff in my car and march back in a little unsure of what I'd find, and there's Soprano and her kill waiting for me in the hall, and she looked up at my like "Hey look what I brought for you!" So I scooped her up, threw her outside and then prepared for the worst!

I was thinking to myself there was no way I could pick that thing up, so I grabbed the dust pan and broom and proceeded to sweep the malled mouse into the dust pan. . . . .IT WAS HORRIBLE!!!!! I HATE DEAD THINGS!!!!!

When I finally got to work, no one really cared, but when I told Eric (My Office BFF) he understood the horror of my story, in fact he was kind enough to put it into words like I never would be able too, and I think he really nailed it!

See for your self. . . . . .

Despite the warm glow from the impending, sun-filled spring day, I awoke this morning with a chill dread that not all was going to go as beautifully for me as the bright weather might wish me to believe. Perhaps it was the wan cast of the sun, revealing pallid shadows in the corners of my cramped quarters, where the meagerest devils might leap and cavort while my back is turned. I sometimes see them just out of the corner of my eye, but they vanish just as surely as hope when I turn my full attention to them.

Despite this unease, all my usual morning activities went according to the natural order of things. It even occurred to me that I might find myself at my workplace in a timely manner, which admittedly is sometimes something of a challenge for me. This is perhaps a consequence of living in the country and commuting to town, or perhaps a personal flaw, but neither of those things are the point. The important matter is that things seemed to be going too well, as though the forces conspiring against me wished to lull me into a sense of security before unleashing the tempest.

It was not long until they showed their sinister hand... I am usually acutely aware of where my cat is lurking. Though the animal shows all the outward signs of affection, the beast can never be fully trusted. Sometimes when she looks at me, it is as though I am being assessed, the gaze so penetrating that I feel violated by it. Perhaps she is trying to see the depths of my soul to report its weaknesses back to the fiend, that I might better be exploited for his utterly nefarious purposes. This, in the guise of warmth and purring, is surely a fearful tonic.

There can be little doubt of it, in fact. As I opened the front door, my hands full of necessities for the survival of the work day, here bounds the detestable creature from the bushes, eyes flashing with violent fury straight towards me. My heart quailed, for surely the monstrous beast will launch itself, full horrible fury, into my throat and finally fulfill its ghastly promise to its eldritch master.

As I braced for the inevitable, the savage ran straight past me and through the open door, and into the depths of my dwelling. As it sped by me, I saw something hanging languidly from its maw, and a sense of uncanny horror swept over me. The beast stopped in the middle of my living space and dropped from its jaws the flaccid body of its ghoulish prize, as though proudly displaying a garish trophy in the hopes of some unspeakable reward.

As I stepped forward in inevitable inquisition, my worst fears were confirmed. The choicest prey of a fiend like this, a field mouse, lay still on the floor. It might have been asleep but for the slobber of its captor; no blood, no gore. One can only imagine the horror of its last moments as its monstrous dominator swatted and rolled on it, smothering and crushing the life from it, adhering to the grim and ancient dance of predator and prey.

Gibbering, and realizing that the portents of the morning were coming horribly true, I cast about frantically for how to dispose of the torpid thing. I could not touch the carcass. Finally, realizing that I was going to be late for my appointed time at work, I decided on a dustpan and brush. Shooing the mewing beast from its kill, and recoiling in horror, the limp corpse lolled as I rolled it onto the pan, and at arm's length, hastened it from my home, depositing it outside the door where the feline had first violated the threshold.

The killer fixed me with its eyes, cold and calculating, as I turned away from the hideous thing on the door step. I realized with dread that I was now between the brute and its catch. Surely, now I must be the next victim, thought I. The creature, instead, dashed right past me and straight to its prize, once again seizing it with its fanged jaws and rushing to some dark place of seclusion, where it might in privacy perform the unspeakable conclusion to its murderous ritual. For this day, and perhaps this day only, am I spared the unavoidable, horrific end to my own morbid tale.


Uh huh . . . . .uh huh. . . . scary people! I should send this to Stephen King!

Any who, hope all your days started better then mine!

Peace!