Talking Cat 4: The Search for Kitty

One frantic internet search later, I was calling my old high school friend Shannon. As the phone rang, I tried to remember whether I'd stalked her or not. Horribly, I was drawing a blank. I couldn't remember much about her at all other than "blonde, pretty, and popular". Oh well, I'd wing it.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Shannon, this is Lucas. Remember me?"
"......sort of......"
"We hung out at that one place that one time, and I managed to offend nearly everyone in 15 minutes flat?"
"...oh yeah! Hi!"
Quickly, I explained the problem. "My cat can talk, and no one but me can hear him. he's coming to your house to help you with your warthog problem after he read about it on facebook. I'm worried that he won't stop with the warthog since he's evil. I need to drive over there, get the cat, and get back before he kills something. Or someone."
There was a long, long pause. "Hello?" I asked.
"Yes, um, I'm here. I, uh......am a little surprised. Are you, by any chance, in a mental institution right now?" She sounded very confused. Well, who could blame her? It was a lot to take in.
I tried to sound encouraging. "Not at the moment. They said I was no longer a danger to myself or others and let me out a while back. That doesn't matter, though. Look, all I need to do is show up there, grab the cat, and split. Nothing to it."
"Well......I could catch him for you."
"No! It's much too dangerous. Look, I'll be there in a few hours. Just stay alive!"
"Wait...." she said. "How's the cat going to get here so fast? I live hundreds of miles away!"
I gritted my teeth. "I made the mistake of leaving my credit card out. He bought a bus ticket."
Apparently, the mental image of my cat calmly waiting in line, presenting his ticket, and riding on a bus like nothing was wrong overwhelmed her, because she had nothing to say to that. I hung up, and ran for the car.

There's a lot of things that go through your mind when you're racing to stop your murderous cat from possibly killing an old high school friend. Unfortunately, I can't remember any of them, because I was distracted by this SMOKIN' hot brunette driving next to me. It was with a heavy heart that I turned off the insterstate and let her drive away.

I arrived at Shannon's after only a few hours. She met me at the door. "Lucas! It's ok, I caught him!"
I stopped dead and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank God! Where is he? Did he hurt anyone?"
She smiled up at me (she was shorter than I remembered). "I have him in a cat carrier in the kitchen. Come on in."
She had a really nice house, but I had eyes only for my dear, sweet kitty, who was indeed in a cat carrier on the kitchen counter. I knew it was him; the murderous glare in his eyes and the howls of incoherent feline rage gave him away. "Kitty!" I shouted, not entirely joyfully. He paused in his attempts to rip the metal grate out and regarded me. "HUMAN!" he boomed, in his incredibly deep, bass rumble. "I require assistance! This bloody peasant has imprisoned me!"
"Hold on, cat. I'll be right there." I turned to Shannon. "I'm so glad nothing bad happened! How did you catch him?"
Shannon smiled charmingly. "Oh, I have my ways. Hey, since you're here, let's sit and chat a while. We can catch up. I put out some snacks."
"Uh....." Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Sure, I guess...." I walked over to where the snacks were.
"Great! I served my favorite, raw salmon and mixed nuts and berries."
"Uh?" I said. I was still trying to figure out why she was being nice to me. Something was going on. But what?
Shannon stood right next to me. A little too close, in fact. She was checking me out rather obviously. I had no idea how to respond to that. She said, "I can see you've gained weight....." She smiled again, showing her teeth.
The cat screamed at me. "Human! It's a trap!"
I froze, as suddenly, all the clues fell into place.
Her favorite foods were raw salmon, berries, and nuts. She was skilled in the outdoors. She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me.
Shannon was an Alaskan Grizzly Bear in disguise.
The bear sensed I had seen through its deception and threw off its disguise. A 5'0" slim blonde transforming into an 8'5" 1000 lb grizzly bear was quite a spectacle. I dove for cover behind the couch.
"UUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNG" said Shannon, and tore the couch in half. I scurried across the floor, still on my hands and knees, as the bear advanced on me.
"HUMAN! TO ME!" boomed the cat.
"What the hell does that mean?!?!" I shouted, as I threw a chair at the bear. I staggered to my feet and sprinted away.
"It means COME OVER HERE AND LET ME OUT!" bawled the cat.
"UUUURRRRRNNNNNNUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!" Bellowed Shannon, the chair bouncing off her head and shattering.
I sprinted to the kitchen, the bear in hot pursuit. I barely stayed out of reach of her huge claws. lungs heaving, I wrenched the cat carrier open.
The cat erupted from his prison. "PREPARE FOR DOOM, EVIL HAIRY ONE!"  He yowled up at the bear.
"UURRNNN!" Exclaimed the bear.
The next few moments were so horrifying that I can only describe them using euphemisms.
The cat leaped onto the bear, tearing into her dinglehopper. The bear roared and tried to grab kitty's foofinsnortle, but missed. Kitty moved across the bear's back using his claws, latching on to her bumpus nubs. Mudkipz flew everywhere. Then kitty moved in, tearing out her tittlegrief. Mudkipz and liquidy Hydrosquirtle spewed across the room. I was so shocked I Hydrosquirtled myself. Then kitty took the bear down with a devastating bite to the bumpus nubs and finished her off with a merciless strike to the anterior rectal cavity. I staggered outside and yawned in technicolor into Shannon's beautiful flower bed.
The cat pranced out, covered in Mudkipz. "That's the way we did it in ancient Egypt, beeyotch," he snarled.
"Come on, cat, we gotta get out of here before the real Shannon gets home!"
"Ugh. Oh, very well." He jumped into the car with me.
Halfway home, the real Shannon called me. I was pretty out of it, so I don't remember much other than "dead bear in my house, you bastard, put you away for the rest of your natural life, blah blah blah." I tried explaining that it wasn't my fault, but she didn't want to hear it. I hung up on her after she called me a "blight on humanity". Even the cat thought that was a little much.

Talking To The Cat: Part 2

Things have changed since I gained the ability to speak with my cat.
He woke me up at dawn this morning by sitting on my chest and shouting into my face: “AWAKEN, HUMAN, AND EXPERIENCE THE JOY OF SERVING ME!”
I woke up, convulsing. “uuuh!”  The cat’s face was only an inch or so away from mine. His whiskers were tickling me.  “Dammit, cat….” I muttered.
He turned around and lifted his tail. I tried to avert my eyes from his exposed sphincter. “Are you not in awe at the awesome power of CAT ASS?” He asked.
“NO! Now let me sleep. Fucking sadistic cat. “ I threw him off the bed and rolled over, asleep in seconds.
That was a mistake.
I woke six hours later, feeling much better. I vaguely remembered the dawn incident, but I dismissed it as a dream. I moseyed through the house and grabbed my first caffeine of the day and started to fix breakfast. I happened to glance out the window. What I saw caused my colon to spasm with horror.
A pyramid of dead birds was arranged neatly on the hood of my car. There had to be at least a dozen of them. Blood and entrails were splattered all over my car. Lying calmly next to the pile was my cat, looking satisfied.
I burst out of the front door. “CAT!” I shouted in rage. “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!”
He lazily opened one eye. “That isn’t proper grammar. I shall not reply to this filth.” He closed it again.
I was so angry I thought my head might actually explode. Instead I farted. Not just any fart, either; it was a sixty second long bass rumble that shook the windows and had me checking my pants. Yep, a couple of squeakers and a skid mark. Oh well, no time for that now. I had cat ass to kick.
I grabbed the garden hose and turned it on him full blast, using my thumb to narrow the opening. The resulting increase in pressure showered the cat in water from a full ten feet away and knocked his pile of dead birds off the car. “MEEEROOOWWW!” He howled.
The cat shot off my car as if he’d been launched by a catapult, or my recent fart. He flew through the air and landed at a dead sprint, streaking into the nearby bushes. I blasted water after him, but lost him in the underbrush.
“How do ya like that, huh?” I turned the hose off, but kept it ready. A nearby shrub vented a stream of curses.
“So, I’m guessing this means you hate water?” I asked the shrub, innocently.
The shrub (or rather, the cat hiding under it) shook in rage. “You know goddamn well we hate water, you stupid son of a…” he trailed off into a stream of obscenity so vile it impressed even me.  
“Yeah, well next time don’t wake me up at fucking dawn!”
“Well next time get up and feed me like you’re supposed to!”
I heard a footstep nearby. I whirled, surprised.
One of my neighbors was standing there, staring at me, his eyes wide. I realized about thirty seconds too late that, from his point of view, I was standing there half naked with dookie in my pants and holding a garden hose like it was an assault rifle, screaming obscenities into the shrubbery. In an attempt to salvage the situation, I managed to smile weakly. I frantically tried to think of an excuse. “Women and their sex games, eh?” I said, and shrugged.
His eyes widened even further. Then he turned and ran. The cat snickered evilly. I threw down the garden hose, frustrated.
The cat emerged to gloat at his victory. “And now you know why we are the dominant species on the planet, fool! Those who mess with the cat shall feel his claws! You shall learn to fear and obey, like so many –“
I grabbed him mid-rant and ran inside. “BATH TIME!” I shouted gleefully.
The cat was so shocked all he managed was a single look of utter horror before I made it into the bathroom.
The police arrived thirty minutes later. My neighbor had called them, the dick, and given them some garbled story about madman with a scat fetish holding some woman hostage. They burst into my bathroom just in time to stop me from bleeding to death from hundreds of deep, nasty scratches. The cat, of course, was fine. I got back from the hospital ten hours later to find the cat had arranged the dead birds into a swastika on the driveway. It was clearly visible from the road. I parked my car over it. I’m going to have to make peace with him somehow. The cost of open war is too high.