The Cat From Hell, 1/1, PG-13, Original by Nebula

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Title: The Cat From Hell
Fandom: Original
Prompt: #13 - Bait and Switch
Warnings: An evil cat.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing.
Summary: The story of a young girl home sick and Punkin, her sister's cat.

Wordcount: 1488

Concrit = love. Bring it on.

This is actually a completely true story. It's not a fabrication. I'm just writing it out for you guys.

There was no other explanation for it; it HAD to have been a trade. The classic bait and switch, except it was a lot funnier in the cartoons where they switched the receiver of someone's kiss for a dog.

This wasn't nearly as amusing.

She remembered the orange kitten at the pet shop. It had been her sister's birthday, and their brother had proudly dragged them into the nearby pet shop and told the little one with wide eyes that whatever she chose, he'd buy for her.

Of course she'd picked a kitten. Who wouldn't?

There'd been a beautiful litter of kittens, some white, some orange, some a mix of the two colors. But it had been an orange kitten that had caught and held everyone's attention.

He'd purred and done adorable things, rolled and nuzzled against her sister's fingers when she'd reached down to pet him. He hadn't fought with the others; he'd been docile and sweet and the obvious choice.

Thinking back now, she could recall the exact moment the switch had happened. The shop owner, having been called over for the purchase, had reached in and picked up the kitten with a smile that had been too nice. “I'll just box up your new family member and bring him out for you,” he'd said. Then he'd headed into the back to do that.

Her sister had been so excited about the purchase, and her brother had been proud and happy to be able to do this for her, and she should've known better. It didn't take that long to box up a little kitten, especially one as sweet as that one.

When the man had finally come out, it had been with a little cardboard house with a handle on top. They'd accepted the box with careful consideration and contained glee, before they'd headed out.

She should've looked for blood on his hands from the scratches he'd undoubtedly gotten.

When they'd finally gotten home, they'd set the box down on the floor and opened the front. The kitten hadn't come out. They'd coaxed and whispered sweet things, and had gotten hisses in return. The poor thing had probably been terrified of the car ride back, had been the explanation, right before someone had reached their hand in to pet the poor thing.

The hand had been pulled out clawed and scratched, and that had been the start of it all.

They'd named the monster Punkin. He'd been an absolutely gorgeous cat, and looked like an absolute angel. His big, floofy tail was something she still adored. She just didn't adore it right now.

School was looking like a nice option right now, but she couldn't go. The whole reason she was stuck home was because she was sick. She'd been just fine on the sofa, curled up and feeling absolutely miserable for herself, when her mom had come in and told her that company was on the way, and she'd have to move.

Her mom's bedroom had been offered, and she thought she'd nodded. She'd been really groggy, after all. But she'd made her way down the hall, sniffling and feeling as if she'd topple over any minute now.

She'd crawled into her mom's bed, a rare treat that made being sick worthwhile, and had curled up and closed her eyes.

And that was when her mom had opened the bedroom door with Punkin in her hands. “I can't have him out here with company,” she'd explained, right before tossing the beast in with her. The door had quickly been shut behind her mom, and she'd only been able to stare in horror at the door, wondering why her mom would do this to her. Wasn't she feeling bad enough already?

She hadn't seen him yet. Knowing him, it wouldn't be long until he started poking his nose around her. The bedroom wasn't that big, and his curiosity was going to eventually be the end of him. Unfortunately, that wasn't today.

His nosiness was well known around the neighborhood, but it was only one of the reasons for his celebrity status. He'd poke around in garages and get stuck in there for days sometimes, until her dad went out to go find the “mangy cat”. Or he'd get himself stuck in their cupboards. Whenever her mom went to open a cupboard to get a pot or pan, Punkin would be right there, waiting to poke his nose inside.

His nosy attitude had also lead him to the dogs of the neighborhood. The fiercest guard dogs who terrified all the kids on the block wouldn't touch Punkin, even if he went and ate their food. They'd leave him alone. They didn't want their noses scratched or their eyes gouged out.

Of course, there was sometimes a comic and useful value to Punkin and his attitude. She didn't need an alarm clock anymore because of him.

Every morning, her dad would wake up around five, and the first thing on his mind would be coffee. So he'd slide out of bed, in only his briefs, and stumble groggily for the kitchen and his ever-faithful drink.

He always passed by the sofa. She knew this because between the sofa and the wall, Punkin liked to sit and wait. Every morning, without fail, he'd wait for her father to walk by.

As soon as he did, Punkin would jump out, first wrapping himself around her dad's leg. Claws would dig in to ensure that he wouldn't be thrown off, and then he'd started to chew on the bare skin he had before him.

It was her dad's howling and cursing that would wake her and everyone else up. She was fairly sure that it was an instant wake-up for her dad as well, as opposed to the caffeine he poured into his system daily.

Of course, she was fairly certain that he preferred the coffee to Punkin's gnawing. She couldn't really feel sorry for him, considering that it happened every morning. If he'd just let himself wake up and remember before traipsing out every morning...

He also taunted Punkin constantly. To put it lightly, her dad was asking for it. They'd be sitting in the living room, and for one reason or another, her dad would turn to Punkin and say, “Mangy cat, mangy cat,” and it wasn't said in a pleasant tone.

Punkin wasn't stupid. As soon as he heard those words and that tone of voice, he'd narrow his eyes and his ears would go back flat against his head. It was his ears that were her best clue into his emotions. They could point any way he wanted, and she wouldn't care. As soon as those ears went back, though, she would rush forward and try to flip them back up.

Because if his ears stayed down, there was going to be a war.

Something touched her toes, and it felt sharp. She jerked her feet away on instinct, only to find Punkin at the end of the bed, obviously fascinated by her feet. “Go away,” she growled at him, pulling her feet up and away even more. Punkin's eyes followed her moving feet until he caught sight of her head. He began moving up, hissing at her and reaching up to claw at her face. She shoved him away, but he kept coming back, leaning forward with his paws and teeth.

“Get away from me,” she snapped, pulling the covers over her face. Maybe he'd leave her alone now, if she kept hidden. Stupid cat. This was definitely not the feline they'd seen at the pet shop. The kitten they'd seen hadn't had a mean bone in his body.

The owner had simply seen a perfect chance to give them a similar kitten that wasn't nearly as nice. She didn't think that the trade, the sweetest kitten for the worst monster in fur, had been a fair one. “I bet the pet shop was really a front for Creatures From Hell,” she muttered.

Suddenly a sharp pain caught her face. The stupid cat had managed to bite through her blankets and reach her.

It was a reaction that was pure instinct. She flung the covers away in an attempt to dislodge Punkin, and watched as he 'catapulted' through the air, only to hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a satisfying thud. It was even more satisfactory as she watched him slide down to the floor. Just like in the cartoons.

She leaned back into bed, a small smile curling her lips. She'd shown the cat just who was boss. She felt like a queen who had put down the invading army single-handedly. Finally, he'd leave her alone.

For possibly all of the afternoon, maybe even the rest of the day. She knew it wouldn't last. Punkin wasn't going to reform. Ever.

Creatures from Hell just don't reform.

< --- >

The girl in question was my mom. And yes, her sister DID have a cat named Punkin, and yes, all of these things transpired, including the 'catapulting' of Punkin. That's my mom's favorite to tell. ~_^

These are only a handful of the stories I've heard from family members through the years; there's plenty more stories to be told about this feline. *grins*

~Nebula