Stories of Halloween

The Cat Came Back: The Cats Came Back

"Damn little beast! Filthy damn animal!" Jack screamed as he clutched his burning face. The cats he had killed before had scratched him many times, but none of the little bastards had ever had the audacity to scratch him in the face! The nerve of that foul creature!

Jack picked up the meat tenderizing hammer and scrambled into the hallway after the black cat. His head swung back and forth as he scanned for the wayward animal. He started to go into one of the bedrooms, but the burning on his face reminded him that he had been wounded.

He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. It was worse than he imagined it would be. He had several deep scratches on his cheek and forehead. To top it all off the malicious varmint had bit him on the nose! Four red holes right in the center of his nose dripped blood down his face. All of his wounds were bleeding, but the ones on his nose was dripping at an extraordinary rate.

How could he go to work looking like he did? What would Mr. Mitchell think? What would Marcy think? Would they think that he was some sort of hooligan who had gotten into a bar fight? Would they think that he was too weak to defend himself from a small animal? No this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. After he was finished with the cat he knew that he would have to call in sick for the rest of the week in order to heal.

But calling in sick led to being written up. Being written up led to unemployment. It would never do. It was all the fault of that damn cat. He put a few band aids on his face, grabbed his meat tenderizing hammer and went to look for it.

After searching the entire bottom floor he couldn't find hide nor hair of the rotten stray, so he quietly went upstairs to find his prey. Even though his face was burning and itching he found the hunt quite exhilarating and thrilling. When he killed this one it would give him a sweet gratification that he hadn't felt in years.

What a sight he must have been. A grown man in his forties wandering about his home in his tighty whiteys and socks , holding a wooden meat tenderizing hammer with a shirt and face full of blood. It would be disgraceful if his dear mother had seen him that way.

As he was about to abandon his hunt for his attacker and go put on a pair of respectable pajama bottoms, he heard a cat's screech come from his bedroom. Something about it made his blood run cold. There was something different about this cat, but still, it was his duty to rid the world of it. He was as stealthy as he could be as he made his way towards the open door that led into his bedroom.

Peeking around the corner of the door, he saw nothing. He walked into his room, the carpet silencing his steps. He searched everywhere, but found nothing. It wasn't under his bed or in his closet. It wasn't behind his nightstand or on top of his dresser. It was like the wicked feline had disappeared completely.

Giving up looking for the creature, he grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt, and made his way out of the room. He reckoned he would go back to the bathroom, dress his wounds and then get dressed. He would find the cat sooner or later and he had to look presentable for when the trick or treaters started arriving.

He started to step down the stairs when he realized what was happening. A flash of black bolted out of the shadows and blocked his step. Jack tumbled down each and every step that made up the flight of stairs. Twenty six of them to be exact. Each roll down the steps added another painful explosion into his world. He screamed as he came to the bottom of the steps with a thud.

He coughed and spat and rested his head to the side, when he saw the flash of black run into the kitchen once again. Jack screamed in rage and, with much effort, sat himself up. His whole body now burned and ached.

Never in his life had a cat caused him so much trouble. He would show that cat. He would put an end to it. Jack gripped the rails of the stairs and pulled himself up. He walked into the kitchen. He intended to grab the large kitchen knife and continue his search, but he wouldn't have time to enact his plan.