Pussy Grabbing

There is something downright spooky about a cat, y'know? Those slity eyes and weird purring. They're psychotic killers man, I'm telling you. Anything mess with its dinner like that, you'd kill it. You seen a cat with a live mouse? The way it watches, stalks, pounces. And then lets the little sod go. Just so it can do it all again.

Psycho.

I once saw a cat throw her little kitties up in the air and practically juggle the poor bastards. Seriously. She snatched them in her claws and threw them up. Caught them one by one and threw them up again. Her own kittens.

I know you don't believe me. Everyone likes a cat, right? Y'know, unless you're a dog person.



Yeah, well anyway. Things got weird recently. Like, last Thursday I was casing a place. Nice. Suburban. Very middle-class, very avocado-on-toast and kids-go-to-ballet. The sort of place that doesn't have an alarm 'cos nothing inside is worth that much and besides, what's the chances of somebody breaking in to us? Crime-happens-elsewhere mindset. Well their idea of 'that much' isn't quite the same as mine. I got no need for a juicer, but it'll make a few bucks. X-Box? TV? Laptops? Mind you, that's all bonus today. See, I'm on a custom job. I'm mostly freelance, like, but I ain't gonna turn down an easy job and folks know that.

So when Cody come up my place and say there's a new guy in the area with contacts out of town, my ears prick up. Seems Cody hustled for him sometime ago and the guy's back now, looking to expand.

"I'm tellin' ya, the market's huge. Guy - yeah, that's actually his name, Guy, - reckons he can shift whatever we get. Fifty per cent. That's our take. Fifty frikkin' per cent." Cody's eyes were bright with excitement. "An' that's not all. Guy's even sent me a cost sheet. Take'a look at this." He pushed a bit of paper across the table to me.

"$400 for a fuckin' cat?" I stared at him like he's crazy. "A cat?"

"Just the ones Guy's listed. Siamese. Ragdoll. Maine Coon. Bruv, it's a whole other lingo. Learn up. And you look at what the dogs is worth. Ugly muddafucca like a pug? $600. Chihuahua like the celebs carry round? $1,000." Cody leaned back and took a drag on his cigarillo .

"Fifty per cent. $200 just for lifting somebody's puddy-tat?"

Cody smirked. "You like pussy, eh?"

"I do now."



So anyway, that's how I ended up outside the Speizier's house at 2pm. Mister would be safely at his dead-end job. Missus inside watching soaps. The kiddiwinks at school. And Tiddles roaming the backyard.

Up until now, Cody had only done dogs. Sneaking them out of backyards. Luring them with burgers and shit. The Speizier's was gonna be his first cat, but his mom was in town or something, so he'd asked me to grab it. It hadn't gone well. The cat, a massive oversized floppy thing had torn at my face and hissed like it was on drugs. In the end, I'd bundled it into the carrier I'd brought with me and slammed the freaky thing in the trunk.

By the time I got home, the scratches on my face were livid and weeping. The sticky blood had dried up, but the following day the cuts had turned putrid. Yellow pus oozed down the side of my face and my right eye wasn't so much bloodshot as pissin' scarlet.

Like I said, that was last Thursday and me and Cody have picked up four dogs since then and another two cats. But them weird-assed furballs keep following me around. Friday, I got up and there was a tabby staring in my bedroom window. Cool as you like. I didn't think nothing of it. Until lunchtime when it jumped in my kitchen window. With a friend.

I shoo'ed them out. Gave the mangy ginger tom a kick for good measure.

That night, there were six of 'em. Count 'em. SIX. All wild-ass street cats. Definitely not the sort Guy was after, but the muddafucca's were on my doorstop. And in my porch. And scrambling through my skylight.

By the weekend there couldn't of been a single alley-cat within ten blocks that hadn't pissed against my car, shat in my yard or scratched its way, somehow, into my house. I put down poison. Laced some milk with aspirin. Soaked some ground beef in de-icer (something I saw online)

Yesterday, it had gotten on the local news. Crazy cat man welcomes strays. Bastards hadn't touched the poison. Not a drop. Not a sniff. Press caught photos of me putting out milk and now Cody says I'm too hot for Guy. Suits me. I ain't going anywhere near another one of his jobs. Not while I've got cats one hundred and one dalmatians-style stalking me.

I tell you, I frikkin' hate cats.



Word Count: 823

Prompt: A guy gets scared when the neighbourhood cats start following him.

Tie for daily winner with "Cats"   by L.A. Grawitch

"SCREAMS!!!"   by Lilli voted early.🧿 ☕