Daytime Excursions

Carrie looked again at the ruined project, what was left of a custom stuffed animal for a customer.  It looked like a murder scene. Golden pieces of fleece and white stuffing  were everywhere and they no longer resembled the stuffed bunny. That makes attempt number 6 a failure as well. How was she supposed to make a living when Fish, the stupid cat, kept getting into her things. She’d barely made rent last month and now that damn cat had done her in again.  Her hold tightened on the smooth, wooden handled knife while her eyes watched the digital clock carefully. Hunter, Carrie’s roommate,  was gone for the day she’d left the house five minutes ago which meant she wasn’t going to be turning back for anything. So, at exactly 8:07 pm, Carrie stepped into the tiny living room. All that was left was the cat. Stupid thing always gets in the way.

She clucked her tongue to the top of her mouth, calling to the animal in a sweet voice laced with loathing. There was no response, Carrie had already known that would happen. This cat was crafty in hiding away from her. Stupid Fish, causing her reputation on Etsy to fall because it always got into her projects- destroying her hard work with nothing more than a satisfied nap on top of its masterpiece. This made the projects late to the customers and as a result her reviews went down, with people saying such things like “Great product, a little slow on the production though” and “Wouldn’t really recommend. Cat hair all over the piece and sewing seemed sloppy as if covering up for something”.

She followed the trail of stuffing around the house, coming into the kitchen and spying it. Fish, the two toned cat, sat lounging on the stove, sleeping inside of one a few abandoned bowls lying around. Of course it was sleeping, what else did it do? Nothing, and Hunter won’t really miss you anyway, she’s barely there to care for the cat. Carrie approached the animal, eyeing it as if it would jump at her shoulder and sink its nasty claws in, tearing her apart the same way it did to those pillows a month back.

“There you are,” She scolded it, “Enjoying yourself?”

Fish the cat opened its eyes slowly, looking her over with an uninterested expression. It lazily yawned, then began to clean itself; it did not care that her steps were carefully calculated, nor did it care to note the rage that would have surely been seeping off her like waves of water. Weren’t animals supposed to sense such things?  She raised the knife above it. A simple pull of gravity is all it would take to silence the rabbit-killer. Was she a killer? Maybe, maybe not. There were other ways to get rid of the animal without Hunter noticing, ones that involved less mess for clean up.  Hunter didn’t really love the cat and it would be an act of justice for the mauling of her innocent bunny. Simple, efficient and messy justice. Carrie wondered what Hunter would be more upset by: the death of her cat or the stains it would leave on the grayish white countertop.

The cat tilted its head up at her arms, looking at of the glinting knife, before it met her eyes with a steady glare. The damn cat was taunting her, daring her to do it. She returned it, steeling herself for the blow. It never came.  After a moment or two, Fish meowed and stood up in the bowl, before walking off.  It paused at the edge of the counter, looking back at her with a smug ‘I told you so’ look. Carrie dropped the knife and watched the cat leap out of the doorway, letting out a sigh. This animal was not worth the friendship Hunter and herself shared. Too many late night study sessions and midnight movies to throw away. Carrie didn’t care much for being lectured by her roommate anyway, and she supposed it wasn’t worth the trouble. The cat didn’t deserve that much.

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