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Peep Hole

PostPosted: Wed Sep 11, 2019 2:07 am
by L.L.
This is a game I play with myself about my best friend from school being a good christian because he is black. Any praise or criticism is welcome.

The cat were like a good fiction, or a time spent with an adult. It were a blessing. The function of the cat, were to act as a buffer for life. It wondered about, and thought of itself, and it found places to sleep. Mostly, the cat were about the same age as myself, but for all purposes, it were the black sheep of the family, although we were all black. I wondered about that sometimes, and thought it a heavy kind of deal to be anything but a coconut, for the time being.
It purred its way along, and found out all the things about life that it desired. It loved the way that it would lick itself, and purr, and it wondered the streets at night, just like any other cat might. A big problem, were the drainage system. It would wind up underneath the drain, in rainy storms, and like the other cats, it knew the sewerage system like the back of its tail. A smooth sort of day it were, when the cat would spend an hour in the sun however, and it had seen many seasons.
I liked to call the cat names, and it didn’t react any differently. It were a bothersome thing, that the cat were always out and about on its own business, because it appeared stupid. It went along the annals of life and time, and purred for its meal. That were the stupid thing about cats. They weren’t obedient in anyway, and when one mentioned purring, one just had to laugh. It were the exercise of the day, to put the cat in its place, and force it to purr without petting.
A fact of the day, were that the cat were in its place before long, besides me in the hammock. It sat there, whilst I read a light fiction. I had been feeling a little off of late, and I wasn’t praying. I had the idea, that all the good in the world were falling to the wayside of the favourite footballer that I liked, and his news about the affair in the papers. I read the papers every day, like one might if they were good, but lately I had been seeking only the sports section, and I looked at some of the fast cars, but I knew the rain and my heart one night, and woke up the next day, ready for breakfast, with the assurance that a good read would be on the table awaiting me.
The stupidest thing, were the fact that the cat would follow me about, like I were some sort of travelling caravan. It would rub against my leg, and go through all the motions of infatuation. I felt sorry for it, and would walk to the kitchen, to get it a bit of ham, but it were always doing it. It were my cat, and I loved it like a brother, but it were getting so ragged, that I thought it were no good for anything other than a good kick.
That were the unfortunate news, but it got up to things, like ransacking the bins, and licking itself. That were the thing about cats, one could only go so far. After that point, it were basically fallout, and one had to survive critical mass. But, it were comfortable that an animal were around, and that were something to build upon.
I were watching it one day, and it had found a mouse. It were following it about the garden, doing some preliminary pounces, but I found myself wondering how to train it to be good. I smirked a bit, and told it that meat were evil, then I gave it a good lift. The cat flailed about, as if it were a juggler, doing tricks, and I had to laugh about that. The problem were, that I had given the cat too good an upbringing, and it were getting greedy about freedom and happiness.
The fact that I could train the cat in being good made an impression on me, and I began keeping a note pad about all the discoveries I could make about it. I knew that the cat feared the rag, so I would dangle it in its face, and laugh. Or the fact, that it would try to eat all its food before the dog got at it, so I put their bowls closer together, and it starved about half of its food over to the dog for a week. That was a good display of teaching.
Then the storm came. I were sleeping in the attic, and a tree fell through the roof, and I was caught underneath it with a power line dangling over my head for the whole night. I were screaming with terror, and I could not get over the anxiety all holidays. At this point, the cat would bounce about, as if it were perfect. For some reason, I knew it deserved this strut, so I smirked, and petted the thing, knowing that it were good.

Re: Peep Hole

PostPosted: Wed Sep 11, 2019 9:14 am
by Bmat
I do like stories about cats. They are pretty much the ruler of the household. Personally I felt the narrator of the story was a bit unkind to the cat, but this tells us something about the narrator's personality.