The Katt roared, and felt the power of the haunches that supported her, and she sprang from those haunches with thun-derous force, knocking the stranger down and taking him hard to the floor. Bones crunched and shattered, and his skull cracked as it banged the hard wood. Dear God, he had never felt so much pain and agony in his life.
Her paws were locked on his shoulders, and her jaws were open wide now. She wanted the soft flesh of his throat, wanted to sink her teeth there, and tear his head clean away from his body.
“No -- dear God!”
And she would have her way, for she was hungry, so incredibly hungry, as Spud looked on at this spectacle, marveling at his beloved’s hunting prowess.
The Big Katt paused for a moment. “Beg!” she said. “Beg for your life.”
“Dear God -- no, no, no.”
But it was too late. “Happy hour,” she said, and reared back that wild mane of hair, exposing huge teeth. “This is what you get for meddling with old boyfriends.”
And she thrust her jaws open and came down upon him with savage, crushing force, tearing into his throat, and in one swift move, snapped his neck back and ripped his head from its moorings, as blood spurted wildly out. “Whoopee!” she said, as she beheld a headless ex-husband, and his twitching body. Death spasms, there was nothing so exciting as death spasms. And she watched the body twitch without a head, at a loss now, and she went to work on his abdomen with her claws.
The head screamed and screamed, but it was now something senseless and aimless without its body, and the Katt worked with her teeth and paws, stripping flesh from bone.
“Baby,” Spud said. “Baby, baby.” And in an instant, she halted. The words he had spoken had soothed her, just as quickly as that. “Baby, it’s okay.” And in an instant, she turned into the old Katt again, and she beheld with some bemusement the carnage that lay before her on the floor. “Baby,” Spud said. “It’s all right now, there’s no need to do more harm.”
“Oh baby,” she said, and she freed Spud from captivity and took him in her arms. “Baby, baby, baby.” And once again the love flowed between them. “You are my man.”
“And you are my woman.”
Yes, love flowed between them, as love would flow, even though the only other thing flowing at the moment was the stranger’s blood, in a veritable river. His body was a grotesquely mutilated heap of bone and gristle, and yes, his blood heavily stained the floor.
“I knew you’d come,” Spud said.
“I had to, baby. That man has spoiled enough of our life. Hold me in your arms, Spudsy wudsy.” And he held her, and she held him. And love was thick and warm in that shack on this fine summer Baton Rouge night.