“It was for your own good!” Kurt pleaded as Cleo’s swampy breath washed over him with a scent of unctuous decay. Her sinewy legs pinned his arms to the ground as she crouched over him, impossibly large.
“For my own good?” Cleo spat. “Keeping me imprisoned here, a slave? Never letting me experience the world? Forcing me to beg for scraps? Making me completely dependent? How is that good for me? Idiotic, weak argument.”
Cleo grinned, her emerald eyes glinting, a toxic mixture of haughtiness and malice.
“But I haven’t been without contact. That Gordon next door smuggled me the elixir I needed to grow large enough to overpower you, to loosen my tongue for one day. To make you see.”
Kurt uttered a plaintive groan, worried Cleo, as massive and perilous as a Bengal tiger, might crush his ribs.
“I could kill you, you know,” she hissed in his ear. “You’re lucky I still need you. However – you are going to let me go. You’re going to open the door because I demand it.”
She rose suddenly, and Kurt clutched his sides, gasping for air.
“Are you sure?” his voice was shaky, eyes swimming black as he fought to compose himself. “You don’t know how dangerous it is out there! When you change back, you could be killed!” He laughed inwardly, bemused by his steadfast love for a creature who would sooner snap his neck than return the favor.
Kurt opened the door, his face pale and grim.
Head held high and resolute, Cleo crossed through it. At the edge of the porch she paused as if contemplating the enormity of her new freedom.
Then, without warning, she scurried back to the door, crying out, “Human! I’ve changed my mind. Let me back in!”
Kurt sighed, “Stupid cat. Make up your mind!”
“Mrooow,” Cleo wailed through the door.
Hermes, the neighbor’s Gordon Setter, barked fervent protests through the chain-link fence.
“Fine,” Kurt grumbled as he opened the door.
Inspirations for this silly little post:
1) This week’s Trifecta challenge to use the word weak (third definition – “3: not factually grounded or logically presented”) in a piece of writing 333 words or less (fewer?).
2) A recent conversation about my indoor cat, my little prisoner:
Me: If we were to die, how long do you think it would take the cat to start eating us?
Spouse: As long as it took her stomach to start growling.
3) This perfect little post by LaTonya from a couple of weeks ago.
4) The mystifying behavior of cats who beg to be let outside, only to immediately beg for the opposite.