Where was I? Oh yeah, my master had just gotten back from disappearing Ghasm. Plato was about to die, and I had a seriously wild dingle-berry hanging from my ass hair.
Wait. Hair? Ass? Wild? Oh, shit (pun). This is all my fault. Somehow I could feel my master's despondent aura. I could feel and see Plato's mortal vapor being wisped into oblivion. My survival instinct told me soon there would be only me and the master, and soon after that, there would be only me.
Where did I get the idea to do what I was about to do? I didn't have a f***ing clue at the time, but looking back, it was the Collective. It wouldn't let their idea die with my master and Ghasm's failure, so they planted a little seed in me, and I ran with it. I ran right into the middle of the f***ing street.
Now, I'd seen cats get run over before. Little cats rolled over by big ass trucks. And I'd seen them get up and walk...well...run away. I know cats like to die alone, so it didn't surprise me I never saw them again. I didn't want anything that severe. I wanted to live long enough for my master to save me, and restore hope about saving Plato.
Not a lot of forethought went into my cat shit crazy plan. That wouldn't come til after. I still find myself severely lacking. I started following the master around, crouched and coiled like a fur burglar. We used to play this game all the time. I'd hide under the bed or behind a door. He'd pretend not to see me. When he got closer, I'd pounce, assassinate his feet, and run away.
Sometimes he'd sneak up on me sneaking up on him. "Hey!" He'd scream and kick my cover.
"Hsss!" I'd spit, horrified and run into a wall on the other side of the room. Scared the f*** out of me. I loved it.
But I was taking it to a higher echelon this time. He couldn't go anywhere without me skulking behind. Every now and then, he'd look down at me and offer a brusk, "Whaddaya doin?"
I'd look back at him with an innocent grin, like, "Oh, hey! How's it goin?" Then I'd mind flip him off and go back to stalking. He got used to it after a while. Then I struck.
The next time he opened the front door, I bolted. I speed waddled my fat ass across the parking lot and into a moderately busy side street. He ran after me, but smoking and lethargy took him down. I didn't even look when I lumbered into the street. I just kept thinking, Please be an economy sedan. Please be a tiny little piece of shit. It mighta been. I couldn't tell you. I was too busy getting run over.
Wham! Thud-thud-thud! Skreeee!
Funny thing is, I didn't feel any pain. I couldn't feel anything at all in my limbs, not even my tail, but you know all about that. I remember looking down at my body and thinking, Hey, that's not too bad. At least my back's not bleeding. Then I thought, Wait, how can I be looking at my own back? Oh...shit...
That's all for today. Now limp away, I'm rehabilitating a book.
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