An Attempt on my Sole

Since my morning class was canceled, I’ve been mostly just stumbling around the apartment to the murmurings of Meridith Vieiera. A minute ago, I walked out of my room and about stumbled onto my shaver, razor up but thankfully covered, in the middle of the hallway to the dining room. I look up to see the cat under one of the dining room chair, very low to the ground, slightly bobbing and swaying her head in anticipation to me walking toward her.

I lean down to pick up my neon pink shaver (therein the flaw, dear puss) and look up at the cat. Her eyes widen and she flattens like a black pancake. A quizzical, ‘Meorow?’ Which translates to, ‘What? I was just messing with you. Really.’ I lurch toward her and she bolts through the hallway, bounding with one leap over the couch.

See, I have to watch for assassins in my own home. I feel like royalty. Soon I’ll have to start getting J to taste my dinner for me. …She might be able to bribe him though.

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3 Responses to An Attempt on my Sole

  1. eatsbugs says:

    you should duct tape her paws.

  2. The Rebuker says:

    So, the purpose of a housecat is to . . . what? Sap your economic resources, resent you, make attempts on your life? And some people prefer dogs!

  3. Erin says:

    Is your apt built on top of an indian burial ground? I’m pretty sure your cat is not only out to get you but out for world domination too!

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