Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Cat Does Not Give A Shit

By Daniel Vlasaty

The man wakes up to find that his wife standing in the doorway to their bedroom. Her body is hidden in shadow, and she is looking out into the hallway.
What’s wrong? the man asks his wife. Why are you just standing there?

His wife does not say anything. She just continues to look out into the hallway.

The man hears footsteps approaching their bedroom, from the end of the hallway. Tiny, squeaky footsteps. He sits up in bed, propping himself back on his elbows.
Who’s there? he asks, both his wife and perhaps the person/people approaching down the hall.

No one says anything. It is too quiet. Just the sound of squeaky footsteps that should have been here by now. The hall is not that long. But the footsteps just continue squeaking down the hallway.

Come back to bed, sweetie, he tells his wife. Still, she does not respond. And he gets up, moves over to his wife. He places his hands on her shoulders and her body disintegrates under his touch. His wife is gone. Just a soft nightgown entangled in the man’s fingers.
Scared, he peeks out in the hallway. The squeaky footsteps continue echoing. The hallway is dark, but he can make out a shape in the middle. On the floor. It is the cat, cleaning itself.
The cat does not pay the man any mind. The cat does not give a shit about the man. And it continues to lick it tiny asshole clean.

The man scratches his head, wonders where his wife is.
He turns back into the room, and he hears the cat laughs from in the hallway.

The cat is always laughing at the man.

The man calls out to his wife, but all he hears is the cat’s laughter. 
BIO:Daniel Vlasaty lives in Chicago with his wife and some cats. He works at a methadone clinic. He is the author of the novella THE CHURCH OF TV AS GOD.

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