My Cat F*cked Me Over Big Time

By concubus All Rights Reserved ©

Horror / Humor

Brambles The Asshole

It's funny what being on the internet does to you. How are you all doing? Have I got a story for you.

But yeah, funny what the internet does. I stopped being a skeptic on most things a while ago now. Ghosts? Believe in them now. Infectious mind-control mold? Yep. You tell me to stay out of the snow in Boston, I'll take your advice and go to Cali. There are so few things that I'm skeptical of now. So few. But of course, as you could all probably tell me already, it's the things that you're still skeptical of that get you.

So here's me, with my story.

I live in a smallish apartment with just my cat Brambles for company. I can't even remember when I got him, I think he just showed up one day and I kept feeding him. I've got a great job too, so when he wouldn't eat regular cat food, I started feeding him tuna from a can everyday. The nice shit, you know. Nothing but the best for Brambles.

I don't interact with other people much. I talk to co-workers, sure, but I'm an Aspie and the whole 'socializing' thing doesn't exactly come easy to me, you know. So I don't have many friends, and I never have people over. Part of it is because I don't have many friends, obviously, but I'm also kind of messy and there's been a persistent smell still hanging about from when Brambles first started living with me. He stank the first few days, but I guess eventually he put his weird cat tongue to work and it went away, at least on him. Still kind of smells near the couch.

So, there was no-one else around who could have told me that Brambles wasn't actually a cat.

My big thing that I was still skeptical of, at least until two days ago? Hypnotism. Thought it was total bullshit, no one could ever do that shit to me, or anyone else. I thought it was ridiculous, the whole concept. Mind control from ghosts, or demons, sure, but regular mundane humans? Nah. Course not.

And I made a total ass of myself for it too.

You see, two weeks ago, my Mom dropped by for a surprise visit. I haven't seen her in a year, because she lives a state away and works a busy schedule. So I go up to the door to greet her, and I hear Brambles start hissing behind me, and my Mom opens the door and just starts screaming. Screaming her lungs out, and I turn around, and it's just my fucking cat, you know? So I'm totally confused, and I keep saying, Mom, that's just my cat, that's just my cat Brambles, and she's calling the cops while I'm trying to explain it. And then she tells me to "Shut him in the bathroom, quick!"

So I do, and I say sorry to Brambles because it's not his fault my Mom's gone nuts, but when the police get to my place and look in the bathroom they come out and tell me I've got a guy wanted for murder from about a year ago in my bathroom, and that his name is Jonathan Cross. And I say, no, that's my cat, I've had him for a year but he's a cat, he's not a murderer.

The cops look at me like I'm crazy, of course. After a week of holding my cat in prison, they come back and tell me that he hypnotized me. And here's me, telling the cops that hypnotism is bullshit, but my Mom tells me to shut up and takes me to a hypnotist the next day. And it's been a few days, and the hypnotist tells me I'm all good now, and I'm still skeptical as fuck but I say thank you like a gentlemen, and Mom takes me down to the station so that we can 'know for sure'.

That was two days ago. Two days ago, I went down to the police station and I go down to the cell where they're holding Brambles, and in his place is this 6 foot tall lanky piece of shit with dreadlocks and bloodshot eyes and this creepy ass stare. I look at him and he bares his teeth at me and hisses. Like a cat. And he does that stupid thing they do in the movies, where they draw a line across their throat with their finger.

Anyway I'm thinking about it now, and I can't believe there was a murderer in my apartment. No wonder the fucker wouldn't eat cat food.

I've got a little problem though.

He's due for parole in ten years. Really, really hoping that the people who make that call aren't skeptics too. All he needs is eye contact.


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