Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Talking Cat 5: Kitty for Hire

I was reorganizing my pornography collection when I got the call.
I didn’t recognize the number on caller ID. Puzzled, I answered it. “Hello?”
The deep, James Earl Jones-like voice on the phone was unmistakable. “HUMAN!” Bellowed my cat. “I require transportation!”
For a moment, I simply stared at my computer screen in shock. I wasn’t seeing the image displayed there – in this case, a skillful fake of Will Smith nailing the president  while John McCain watched in the background. (I don’t usually go in for gay porn, but this was a collector’s item).  Instead, I was realizing that a) I hadn’t seen my cat for a week, b) that was why I felt so relaxed, c) he could use phones now, and d) where the hell was he?
“Cat,” I began cautiously, “where are you? And do I want to know what you’re doing there?”
He replied cheerfully, “I’m up at your friend Shannon’s! Remember her?”
“Ummm…..yes…..but I thought she was mad at us. You know, the dead bear and all.”
“Oh, that.” He meowed dismissively. “That was merely a smokescreen to fool the police. They have all her phones tapped. She emailed me last week at my website and said she had some work for me, so I caught the next bus up here. That reminds me, your buses are hives of filth and stupidity. I had to tear someone’s ears off for insisting that dogs are better than cats. You’ve never heard such whining.”
I thought, What the fuck?
I said, “What the fuck?”
He hissed over the phone. “Do not use filthy language with me, Human! Speak properly or not at all.”
I took a deep breath. “Ok. You have a website? What did Shannon want? Why did she need? And how can she talk to you?”
“Yes, it’s www.meatspin.com .  I care not how Shannon can speak with me, but it’s nice having someone more manly than you to talk to. She’s much more my type.”
“More manly! She’s a petite blonde! With two kids! How is that manly?”
He snickered. “It’s not the plumbing, it’s the attitude.”
“Little shit,” I snarled at him. “When you get back I’m having you neutered again.”
As I was (angrily) talking, I typed in the URL of kitty’s homepage. I was greeted by a video. Music began playing. “You spin me round round baby right round, like a record baby, round round round…”
I recoiled in horror. “Agh! My eyes!”
The cat laughed evilly. “Ha! FOOL! Never trust information a strange cat gives you over the phone!”
I hastily closed the window. “Cat, stop fucking with me and answer my questions. Why did Shannon want you to do something for her?”
He purred happily. That was a bad sign.
Over the next half hour, I managed to drag the details out of him. The least shocking detail was that apparently, good-natured, quiet Shannon who I knew from high school had embarked on a career in organized crime. She was currently involved in a small scale mob war against a rival organization.

Then things got weird.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that the rival organization Shannon is at war with consists of escaped Russian circus animals?” I demanded incredulously.
And that was why Shannon wanted my kitty as a hit man. He was unmatched at murdering wild animals of any shape or size. It also explained why there was a large brown bear impersonating her last week.
I gave in. “All right, whatever. I don’t care. I don’t WANT to care. You and Shannon just do whatever and don’t tell me about it. I’ll be there to pick you up tomorrow.”
“Wait, human! I haven’t told you the best part!”
Very, very cautiously, I said, “………..what’s the best part?”
“My first kill was a mountain lion! I couldn’t eat it, Shannon insisted we had to make it look like an accident. So we ran over it with her car a few times. It made the papers and everything!”
I hung up.
The next day, I picked up my blood-drenched kitty from Shannon’s. She didn’t bother with keeping up appearances this time. The armed guards all over the place were a giveaway. Shannon herself looked fairly ordinary except for the .45 on her hip and the freaking sword slung over her back, the hilt sticking over her left shoulder so she could grab it. She was expressionlessly sipping coffee from a mug that said “I can only help one person a day. Today isn’t your day. Tomorrow isn’t looking so hot either”. She was standing in front of some guy kneeling on her driveway with his hands cuffed behind him, begging for his life. I decided this wasn't the best time to say hello.
As we drove away, I heard a single gunshot. The cat purred briefly. “I told you she was more manly than you."

No comments:

Post a Comment