The Cat’s Kingdom by C. Ananias

His name is Christopher J. Ananias. He lives in Kokomo, Indiana. The story is called, The Cat’s Kingdom (733). The work is original and unpublished -according to him.

A dubious cat thinks he’s the boss, and maybe he is?

Artwork by Kiwana Semambya.

The Cat’s Kingdom

Sally French a shapely woman, with stunning blue eyes and mocha freckled skin, was tucked in bed. Milo her beloved cat was on her chest. “Get off Milo.” She brushed at the cat, he angrily moved. Sally was exhausted from pulling a double shift, at the nursing home. She hoped the door was locked, but was too tired to check. No counting sheep tonight, just sleep, magical sleep.

Milo, watched her drift away, and was happy. He was white with black ears, black tail, and green eyes. The house was his. He roamed around the seven rooms, imagining himself as an all-powerful god, and this was his kingdom. He boldly walked into the kitchen, even though it was off limits.
A wonderful aroma compelled him to the table, under a circle of light, sat a paper plate full of greasy chicken bones. This was his and he would kill for it, but if the giant saw him on the table… Fear crept into Milo’s mind. He saw the giant towering over him that day, like a maniacal tree, in a pink bath robe, “MILO, GET OFF THERE!” Smack! He flew ass over applecart in the air, the room spun around, he crashed into the dishwasher! Abuse!

Milo glared, his black ears laid flat, blue eyes narrowed like rifle sights on his target, claws came out, he let out a high-pitched growl! He would have attacked, but the giant glared right back, the beast in the pink bathrobe stepped forward. Milo the God ran, the pus pussed out, but didn’t forget, not ever. He thought, I better check her, or she’ll tear my ass up if she catches me. He tore himself away from the intoxicating chicken bones.

Milo, the self-ordained god, jumped up on the giant, and sat for a moment. Nothing happened. He watched her face, and felt her warmth, he rose on her rhythmic breaths, like in a boat, the soothing crash of her heart beat under him. When she slept, he was her captain, riding her dreams. His eyes got heavy, but… The chicken bones! What if someone gets them! His ears went flat, he dug in a little, she didn’t sir. He leapt off her and went straight to the kitchen. Later that night, he heard a horrendous ruckus, worlds colliding, giants battling in mortal combat! Milo the cat, the self-ordained God of the seven rooms, hid under the bed. His kingdom was in peril.

In the morning, Milo came out from under the bed. He was thirsty! That big tree, that kept him prisoner, forgot his water. “Meow, Meow, Meow,” that will get the giant going. Milo, considered himself the boss, but feared the giant. The giant was dangerous, just by her size alone, and could thunder at him, but she was a sucker, too. All Milo had to do, was give a little squeak, and cock his head, he knew he was cute, and mana would fall from heaven. This time the giant known as Sally French didn’t stir.

Milo made his move to jump up on the bed, but slid in a pool of blood. A little bewildered, he sniffed, and licked his paw. The cat’s eyes, glint like emeralds, flashing in a bar of sunlight. In that stripe of sun, the blood glowed electric red, almost like a warning, this is forbidden. He licks the bright blood off the wooden floor, getting all of it, even working the cracks. In all his sheltered life, that consisted of roaming seven rooms, Milo’s has never tasted anything so delicious!

He jumped up on the giant. Her chest doesn’t rise. Milo is disappointed, he liked that sensation, it was comforting, rising-falling, heart thumping powerfully under him, and oh so warm. He waits a long time for the giant’s chest to rise. Sally French’s beautiful blue eyes stare at nothing, and will never see anything again. The heart that beat and thumped warmth lay still and cold, under him. The cat instinctively knows something is wrong, dreadfully wrong, and thinks, now I can do anything.

For a time as empires rise and fall. Milo the god, reigned in his kingdom, and felt joy. He roamed the seven rooms, drinking water from the toilet, and leaky faucet. Sally French the corpse, wandered nowhere, saw nothing, and felt nothing, as she disappeared from her kingdom, one gnawing bite at a time.

From the Editor:

We hope that readers receive In Parentheses as a medium through which the evolution of human thought can be appreciated, nurtured and precipitated. It will present a dynamo of artistic expression, journalism, informal analysis of our daily world, entertainment of ideas considered lofty and criticism of today’s popular culture. The featured content does not follow any specific ideology except for that of intellectual expansion of the masses.

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