The Evil Black Cat

Clyde and his friends staggered out of the bar after an evening of drinking.

“Maybe we should get a taxi to drive us home,” said Jim.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” said Clyde. “I’m driving myself home.”

Clyde almost lost his balance and had to grab a telephone pole to keep from falling.

“Look,” he said. “A black cat. I hate cats.”

“Whatever,” said Billy. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Billy headed away from the group to his car and drove away.

“Here kitty kitty kitty,” said Clyde, bedding down and making a smooching sound. “Here kitty kitty.”

“Thought you said you hate cats,” said Jim.

“I do,” said Clyde. “Here kitty kitty.”

The cat approached Clyde cautiously with it’s tail wagging. Clyde continued to call it and snapped his fingers and slurred stupid smooching sounds. The cat got courage and crept up to him.

Clyde looked like he was about to pet the cat when he stood up and swung a mighty kick at the cat, hitting it dead center and sending it flying through the air. The cat let loose with a terrifying sound and landed a good twenty feet away.

“Ha ha ha,” said Clyde. “Did you see that?”

“What the heck Clyde?” asked Jim. “You jerk.”

“What?” asked Clyde. “I mean was that cool or what?”

“You’re sick man,” said Jim. “C’mon Karl. Let’s leave.”

Jim and Karl headed to their car. They rode together so they got in their car and drove away.

“What’s the problem guys?” Clyde shouted out. “Whatever. Wimps.”

He headed to a nearby car and puked out the hot wings he had been stuffing down his throat between drinks. He had been holding it back so his friends didn’t make fun of him.

“Bunch of party poopers,” he said as he wiped the puke from his mouth and reached for his keys and staggered to his car.

“Riiaaaer!”

The sound of the cat’s scream startled him and he looked up and saw the cat he had kicked on the hood of a car, staring at him intensely with bright yellow eyes.

“What’s your problem? You want some more?”

“Riiaaaer!”

The cat shrieked again and dashed to the side of Clyde’s car and plopped down.

“Get out of here you stupid cat,” said Clyde. “Before I boot you again.”

The cat screeched at him again and Clyde jumped back. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The cat was larger.

“What the . . . Get outta here.”

His voice began to quiver and he felt his knees wobble.

“Riiaaaer!”

Another screech and the cat grew again. It was now the size of a German Shepard.

“This can’t be. I must be more drunk that I thought.”

Clyde looked around and saw a small rock lying in the street. He picked it up and hurled it at the cat.

“Scram,” he screamed.

“Riiaaaer!”

The cat doubled in size.

Holy Cripes. It’s the size of a panther.

Clyde looked around for help but the street was deserted.

“Help. Help me.”

“Riiaaaer! Riiaaaer!”

The cat was now the size of a horse. Clyde turned to run but was way too drunk. He fell flat on the ground. He turned and sat up and saw the cat stalking him. The cat was approaching slowly.

“No. Get away.”

He tried to use his hands to back himself away from the cat as it got closer and closer.

“Get away. Get away. I’m sorry I kicked you. Leave me alone.”

“Riiaaaer!” The cat was a couple feet from him.

“No. No. Please. Go away. Go –”

The cat snarled again and leaped at Clyde. Clyde threw his arms in front of his face.

“Aiiieeeeeee!”

 

“Did anyone hear anything?” asked Detective Berg.

“No one heard a thing,” said a cop. “We got a call this morning and found him like this.”

Berg looked at the body closely.

“He has claw marks on his arms.”

“You have any idea what kind of animal?” asked the cop.

“Yeah. It’s cat claw marks. I know that for sure. My girlfriend has three cats and they’ve scratched me up quite a few times.”

“You think that killed him?”

“I don’t see how. But take a look at his face. His eyes are open wide as if something scared him and he looks like he was trying to cover his face.”

“Heart attack maybe?” asked the cop.

“I don’t know. Maybe he choked in his puke. I mean who’s gonna die from being scared of a cat?”

 

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