Talking To The Cat: Part 1

This morning, I cast my first magic spell. To find out what to do, I had conducted hundreds of late-night internet searches. I had expected something long and intricate involving blood sacrifice, but the true method for invoking magic surprised me.
I cast the spell by traveling to my local Wal-Mart and placing my hand upon the blessed Paper Towels of Invoking. I intoned, “I want to talk to my cat.” And it was done. Of course, I didn’t find out if it worked right then. First I had to buy something, because the staff were getting suspicious. And after I got home, the cat was out, hunting as usual. But a few hours later…..
I heard the “flip-flap” of the cat door. Then, instead of his usual meows: “HUMAN! I require sustenance!”
I winced. “Jesus, cat! Your voice is deeper than mine!”
He didn’t seem surprised that we could communicate now. “Perhaps it is an indicator of my virility. Come! Feed me!”
I stood up. “Virility? I had your balls cut off.”
He hissed and clawed me. “I will not tolerate your insolence! More food! Now! Or I shall poop in your bed!”
“Ok, ok, Damn. Stop hassling me.”
After he chowed down, I said, “Kitty, I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”
He glanced up at me. “No.” He then began licking himself.
I said, “Look, I can see you’re a busy man. Er, cat. But this is important.”
He ignored me, sticking one leg in the air and starting in on his butt like there was buried treasure in there.
I sighed. “I want you to stop bringing animals in the house after you catch them.”
That got his attention. “WHAT! How dare you!” He walked over and started attacking my feet.
“OW! Stop that! Listen, cleaning up dead birds and mice gets old after a while. And that time you let the rat loose in the house – “
He interrupted me, now sitting still and looking innocent. “That was merely to provide amusement at some later date.”
“There was a rat living in the kitchen for SIX MONTHS. I couldn’t kill it.”
He snickered. “Loser.”
“It pooped behind the washer, dryer and the oven. I had to remove the damn oven from the wall to clean it!”
He snickered again. “Idiot.”
“And don’t get me started on the baby rabbits you killed under my bed!”
He lay down and stretched. “Their screams were delicious. So was their flesh.”
I paused. “Are all cats this evil, or is it just you?”
He rolled over languidly, plainly relaxed and unconcerned. “Evil! HAH! We exist beyond your puny considerations of morality.”
I thought carefully. Obviously this wasn’t working. I needed to take a different approach.
“Kitty, if you don’t stop bringing animals in the house, I will have you declawed and make you wear a collar with a bell on it.”
That got his attention. He sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowed to slits. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I dare. I would SO dare.”
He paused. He gave me a look that, if I had been a mouse or bird, would have haunted my nightmares for the rest of my life. But since I was ten times his size, it merely irritated me. Finally: “So be it. You drive a hard bargain, human.”
“You kill a lot of small animals, cat. Let’s shake on it.”
We shook on it. He drew blood.