Billy Bidwell violently shook his gunny sack, and then twirled it about his head. “Git ta fightin kitties!” he shouted; “I wanna see blood!”
Inside the bag, two adult cats scrambled to keep their balance. Speaking in their native tongue so as to keep Billy unawares, the calico shouted to his counterpart.
“Herman! Is that you?”
“Norbert!” the other said; “How the hell did we get in this mess? Both of us know better than to accept anything from this foul creature!”
“Catnip my friend” Norbert answered; “The little creep had catnip! What was I supposed to do? You know I’m a recovering addict! And what about you chum?”
“Well, I hate to admit it; but the little weasel had one of those stuffed mousey toys that squeak. Damn! I hate it when I get sucker punched!”
“Speakin of punchin” Norbert said, “keep punchin the bag so he thinks were kickin the crap out of each other or he’ll spin us into pukin! And do me a favor will ya? Get your friggen tail outa my eye!”
Herman reeled in his appendage while slapping the sack with three of his four paws. “Whoops, sorry pal. It’s dark in here ya know? So, what do you think we should do? We can’t fool him forever.”
Norbert grinned, in spite of the fact that no one could see him.
“I have a plan” he said while scratching at the bag and yowling as if he were being turned inside out.
It was only a few minutes before both cats knew just what to do.
“I’m not sure it’ll work” shouted Herman, “but let’s give it a try. I’m a hatin this kid!”
Suddenly, all movement within the bag stopped, and two heavy sighs were heard by the young man holding his prize aloft.
“Well damn!" said Billy Bidwell, his eyes gleaming and a small blob of spittle flowing from the corner of his smirking lips. “I think they’z BOTH dead! I can’t wait t’ see this!”
He plopped the sack on the ground and hurriedly whipped open the loose end, dipping his face just inside the burlap so as to get a real close look. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that the next meow meant “GO!” in kitty catese, or perhaps he’d have run as fast as his chubby legs would have carried him.
In the next morning’s Backwoods Tribune, the headline story spoke of the coroner’s office needing to check dental records to find the identity of a young man found in Shupluck’s Creek; a young man (cue rising harp glissando) without a face!
That evening at the home of Molly McGrew, Norbert the kitty stood in the home’s kitchen doorway, mewing loudly.
“Are ya sure she’ll be ok with you having a guest for dinner?” Herman the kitty had a thing about worrying, particularly when it came to the fickle whims of human beings.
“Just do what I say” said Norbert, as Ms. McGrew answered her master’s call and trotted to the kitchen.
“Oh isn’t that so cute! My Norbie has brought a friend home for supper,” Molly said while holding her hands to her cheeks in the standard kitty adoration posture.
She quickly stepped into the pantry and pulled from it a large bag of liver flavored kibble, leaning to the floor so as to pour out a heaping helping that the two cats might share.
Norbert looked at Herman and grimaced. “Man I hate that crap” he mewed. “What say we demand something better” he winked.
“Oh... I get it” said Herman. “Sure, lets!”
“Act all cute and stuff then”, Norbie whispered; “you know… hard to get, like you aint hungry but you need a backrub.”
Herman smiled. He knew just the pose to strike.
As Molly bent to scratch the cute little kitty Norbert yowled “Tuna lady! We want tuna and right now or else!”
Of course, in spite of the fact that Norbert was convinced that he not only understood but could speak the human’s English, all that came out of his cute little furry mouth was “rawr, rih ruh reawrrr!” Assuming that he’d been heard and summarily ignored, there was only one response he could give to Molly McGrew’s refusing his demand!
“Go!” he shouted to his new combat buddy. And go they did.
(Cue staccato high frequency tri-tone ala “Psycho shower scene”)