Halloween Tales From A Demon Cat.... Part #2

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

The Demon Cat Speaks Again

"Well, are you ready for another story?"

It was the voice of my demon cat, Gabriela, behind me.

If you're not aware, Gabriela had told me a terrible horror story that had been relayed to my readers a few nights back. She had relished in the accolades she received and knew that her public was demanding more from her. She was also aware of my resistance to type another horror story.

I turned towards her and sarcastically replied, "Have you got a funny one this time?"

"If the people wanted something funny, they'd read one of your poems! No. I am only offering what the people want this time of year. If you're ready to keep them as readers, you might just want to get those ugly fingers of yours typing."

Having little option, I turned back to my keyboard and began to type her words as she presented them.

Source: Stock Free Images

Source: Stock Free Images

Peace, Love, Death

In the 60's, I enjoyed my second life for the first few years. My owner was a free spirited girl named Meg. She was 16 years old and loved to experiment with different types of drugs. She'd drink and pass out. Smoke and nod out. And, for some reason, would trip and freak out. Regardless of her state of being, she was always kind to me, ensuring fresh food and water daily, and petting me endlessly.

As you can tell, I had it good. That is, until the day she started using drugs with El Musica Man.

El, Schmell, the guy was an idiot. He had been her supplier for quite sometime. I watched him one night after she'd passed out and her roommate, Janet, had gone to the kitchen for a soda. He took advantage of her absence as Meg slept. Hands roaming, he rubbed areas that I knew he needed to stay away from.

I hissed at him once. He laughed at me and really got me mad. Just as I was ready to let him feel the sharpness of my claws against his face, his opportunity to feel Meg up ended.

Janet had returned. "Lucky for him!" He slid back down to the bean bag and pretended to be completely innocent.

The pervert!

One evening El Puke-O brought over some white powder. It looked like that stuff they sometimes would inhale up their nose and then pet and play with me for hours. He took out a spoon, sprinkled in a small amount of the powder, and mixed in some water. Then, he took out his lighter and held it under the spoon until the water started bubbling. He filled up a needle half way with the hot liquid and stuck it in his arm.

Out of his mouth came the most intelligent thing I ever heard him say, "Wow!"

He lay back, smile on his face, and closed his eyes... for the last time.

Both girls thought El Puke-O was pulling a fast one. Giggling, they both started kissing his neck to get a rise out of him, but to no result. It was then they noticed he'd stopped breathing.

Panic struck. Two hippie girls, an apartment full of dope, and a dead body! No way to call the cops or an ambulance, unless they wanted to go to jail for the rest of their lives. Freaks and flower children were not given an inch of leeway. Their future, or hopes of one, only left them one form of recourse.

Run!

Source: Stock Free Images

Personally, I'd have dumped his body down the steps into the alley. But, Meg didn't think that way. The girls filled up a couple of pillowcases with clothes and stuff they thought they'd need and quickly left.

"Hey, whatta 'bout me?"

After a couple of minutes I heard running up the stairway. The door opened, Meg rushed in, grabbed me, stuck me atop the clothes in a pillowcase, and off we went. I knew she wouldn't forget me!

We walked for days, hitchhiking whenever possible. The weather had gotten extremely hot and the bugs were buzzing all around. I'd heard the destination, Florida, mentioned. Yet, from their conversations, I knew it was still a long way off.

"Welcome to Georgia" I'd heard Janet say to Meg earlier in the afternoon.

The pillowcase had become an oven and I'd struggled to get out. Finally, Meg stopped, tied a string around my neck (I offered no resistance as it was such a relief to be free) and I walked alongside of them. God, I felt like a dog!

Source: Stock Free Images

A now overcast sky hide the sun setting when the pick-up truck stopped ahead. Meg and Janet ran towards it thankful to be getting a ride. I was yanked along like a second thought. We'd have to talk about that in the future.

The passenger door was thrown opened up as they rushed to the truck. They tossed their pillowcases in the bed and climbed in without care, Janet first and then Meg. I jumped into the floorboard before the door quickly slammed shut almost catching my tail.

"Damn it, Meg! Remember, I'm here too! Watch it!"

As the truck pulled away, the mood quickly went from one of happiness to one of ominous dread. The driver was a middle aged man who'd obviously forgotten what a bath was. He wore one of those baseball type hats with a big "G" on it. His T-shirt needed a washing, and his blue jeans were oily and greasy, like the work boots he wore.

I think what first gave the girls warning was his foreboding mood. One word answers to their questions, completely solemn in nature, and his zombie stare aimed straight ahead as he drove. He even made me nervous.

The floorboard was stuffy. I jumped up in Meg's lap to catch a breeze. His window was open, but when Meg reached to roll hers down, she discovered the handle was missing. So was the one for the door. The driver then pulled off the main road and headed down a dirt one.

Source: Microsoft Images

Janet ordered him to let them out. Being ignored, she started making threats about yanking the wheel and wrecking them. He took his right hand off the steering wheel, gave her a cold stare, and smashed his elbow against her face. Blood shot out of her broken nose. As she leaned forward in pain, he repeated the elbow action, catching her again in the face.

I jumped off Meg's lap to the floor as a shocked Meg grabbed hold of her unconscious friend. The truck turned onto even a more narrow dirt road, traveled ahead for five minutes, and finally stopped next to a swamp bog.

I'm not going into all the details as to what happened. You've seen enough movies to imagine it for yourself. I will say he first pulled out Janet's limp body, and made sure she'd never wake up again. Then, fighting for her life, Meg was pulled out.

I'd jumped out clawing at his face. This guy's strength was unbelievable, though, and I found myself thrown against a tree trunk next to the water. As I watched, stunned and in great pain, he did the worst imaginable to Meg. Then, he rolled over, grunted a couple of times, and fell asleep under the dark clouds above.

Source: Stock Free Images

I'm not sure when I noticed Meg calling my name, as I was pretty well out of it. Slowly coming to my senses, I suddenly noticed a huge predator's mouth of teeth within a couple of feet.

"Jump, Gabriela, Jump" Meg screamed!

I jumped out of the way just as jaws snapped closed inches from me. Backing away, it lunged again. Again, Meg's voice had yelled for me to jump. Over and over this was repeated this until my tail touched the foot of the monster that had brought us here. One last lunge and I again jumped out of the way as the alligator's jaws closed tight on the foot of our attacker.

I don't know what was going through his mind upon wakening. Nor, do I know what went through his mind as the alligator began a death roll and ripped off his foot. Nor, do I know what he thought when he rolled over and over towards the bog in agony, only to find another alligator waiting.

I do know I enjoyed every second of it!

The rains started almost immediately. My body ached terribly. I laid down next to Meg and slept.

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Final Words

"So, did Meg get rescued?" I asked.

"No, he'd strangled her. She was dead." Gabriela responded.

She'd said she heard her voice calling her. I knew better than to pursue that any further.

"Well, did someone come and find you?" I questioned, beginning to feel frustrated with Gabriela's whimsical attitude.

"No. More alligators came and had a feeding frenzy. They ate everything" she replied.

"Well, how did you survive?" I had to know.

"I didn't. I had three broken ribs that'd punctured my lungs. I died next to Meg and was eaten by the alligators. It was the second time I'd died." she said with a slight smile.

"Wait a minute. The second time?" This was getting ridiculous.

"There's a curse that punishes cats for eating human flesh. I keep coming back after I die. Things don't change though. My owners keep meeting strange fates" she said eerily, right before curling up in her bed and closing her eyes.

"Have all your masters met with violent deaths?" I had to know, seeing how I was her current owner!

Gabriela opened one eye, raised her head a hair, and said with a smile, "Maybe you'll find out next time."

Next time? I guess only the future will give the answers.

Or, should I even ask?.

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Halloween Tales From A Demon Cat

GABRIELA : DEMON CAT

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Source: Stock Free Images

Gabriela, The Story Of The Storyteller

Halloween is quickly looming on the ominous horizon. Is it time to start writing Halloween stories? Could horror be the topic of the season's morbid conversations? How can a person that specializes in comedy possibly come up with tales to scare the boldest of readers?

How the hell should I know? I write mostly comedy!

So, I went to the household expert on the topic and asked her. No, not my wife (although mornings are getting kind of scary before the make-up goes on)! I turned and looked at my demon cat, Gabriela, to inquire if she knew of any tales that might be rated PG to relay to the audience.

"So, you want to know about my early life do you?" she responded. "You know where I've come from before getting here!"

"Gabriela, I knew you had a tough life, but I thought you just might be able to help me out with this one." I replied.

Raising her foreboding head slowly, a gleam came to her eyes that eerily illuminated the living room. Gabriela glanced first to her left, then to her right, as if looking for a spy that might take her words back to the evil one she had escaped. Sighting no one or nothing, she turned back to me and began telling me the first of her stories.

Source: Stock Free Images

The Hand

In the early 1940's, I belonged to a young man named Victor during my first life. It was fate that Victor could not find love. His uni-brow on such a protruding forehead presented an overbearing appearance as it only accented the face of which would make even crying babies hush in fear. I even tried to avoid his petting, but, relented occasionally knowing where my meals came from.

He had been relentlessly teased during his school years, turned away from job after job for fear of his looks causing disruption to the other employees, and no girl would send a glance his direction without feeling shivers immediately after. Victor was not one to reap the benefits of anyone's love.

Only his mother could bear to be around him. She provided sympathy for his plight, but her words were filled with spite as she, herself, had been the victim of rejection several times in her life.

As the years passed, Victor's mother's natural death ended her decades of misery. A huge life insurance settlement was presented to Victor, ensuring a life of leisure be his to relish.

Source: Stock Free Images

Source: Stock Free Images

Amy Etheridge, a fairly loose woman for the day and time, got wind of this fact. As she was growing older, the gents were not a free with their presents to her as they had once been. Age was creating a lack of funding for the life she had become accustomed. Victor's immediate wealth and lack of female company provided a substantial opportunity to set herself up well.

Pretending to be collecting for a local charity, Amy strolled upon Victor's porch one evening. He had been sitting alone staring at the other houses on the block. Inside, he knew families were talking and laughing, as families do. Sadly, Victor wondered what it would be like to have a person to share his life with. I could feel his emptiness. So, feeling sorry for this creature of ugliness, I actually jumped in his lap to give him a little company. Then, the town whore had arrived.

Oh, she was so smart. Her words flowed as wine from an open bottle, intoxicating Victor's spirit. Her giggles were so brilliantly scripted and obvious, but unseen by my master. He was drawn in faster than a mouse to cheese upon a trap. And, what a trap she was setting.

I was pushed from his lap after emitting a slight growl of disgust and she had pulled away in a false facade of fear. If I'd have known that he would have reacted with the need to protect her, I'd have stayed quiet. Yet, I don't believe it mattered to her, or to him. She was providing him with something he had forever longed, and he had something she had forever longed. Too bad it wasn't the same thing.

Source: Stock Free Images

Source: Stock Free Images

I could go through the happenings of the week's following that evening. However, the story has been told many times. Her web was spun with strength and care, and he dived into it head first. It wasn't long before a ring was on her claw and she was a permanent resident of the household.

I kept close watch as the next month brought a host of visitors to the home. A lawyer had been there several times as Victor made sure his new love would have a great life should something happen to him. Then, an insurance agent had dropped by and sat with the couple discussing the need to prepare for the unexpected. Both had signed papers willingly. Perhaps, it wouldn't have been so easy had Victor seen the leg of his love rubbing up and down that of the agent's under the table. The sights one can view from floor level is enlightening at times.

One night, the agent dropped back by with the policies. Two weeks later, he returned one afternoon unannounced, telling Victor it was important they talk. My master had been chopping firewood for the evening when interrupted, and entered the house with the wood and axe in his arms. Setting them down next to the fireplace, he turned, shook hands with the agent, and had sat while discussing the task of cutting wood every day. Excusing herself, Amy left the two and went to the kitchen to prepare coffee.

I lay under the table, gazing up at this harlot. When the percolator started it's steady tune, she turned, looked towards the living room, and turned back to the cabinet. She opened the bottom doors under the sink and pulled out a bottle they only used when I grew lazy and stopped chasing mice. I watched as she took a teaspoon full of the mouse poison and deposited it in my master's special coffee mug. Then filling all the cups, she carried them back to the living room.

Source: Micro Soft Images

I was perplexed, wondering why she would put this mice poison in my master's cup. Then, like a bolt of lightning flashing to the tree in the backyard, it hit me! She wanted my master to be as the mice...dead!

Rising quickly, I trotted to the three, now laughing and enjoying themselves. I jumped to my master's lap as he raised the cup to his lips, hoping to cause him to spill the liquid. Instead, I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck and tossed out the front door.

I rose upon my hind legs and peered in the window, meowing frantically. Helpless to do anything, I could see my master take drink after drink from his cup.

What happened next was almost too fast to describe. I could see Amy pick up my master's cup, point at it, and say something as she laughed. My master rose, walked to the kitchen, saw the bottle on the counter, and ran back into the living room lunging at her. The agent jumped in between them and hit my master, knocking him to the floor. He rose and tackled the agent as chairs and end tables were scattered. Climbing atop the agent, his hand around his neck, I watched him slowly squeezing the life from the man.

My claws scratched at the slick glass attempting desperately to get inside. Amy was trying to pull my master off the agent. My master turned his head in her direction and screamed for her to watch the agent die as she would be doing the same in a few minutes. Yet, his voice was getting weaker and weaker. Could the mice killer be doing it's job?

Then, Amy rushed to the fireplace, grabbed the axe my master had earlier set down, and swung it with all of her might. I watched as Victor raised his arm to defend himself, but instead, found the axe severing his arm from the wrist. Still screaming he would kill her, he started to rise, but was met with another blow that entered his skull. Then, there was nothing but silence.

The rest of the afternoon was spent under the bed, hiding. There were all sorts of people coming in the house, first taking pictures, then taking away the dead bodies of the agent and my master. I heard someone saying something about finding a missing hand, and even glared into the eyes of one the men that had looked under the bed seeking the missing appendage. Then, all were gone, except for the one that had killed my master.

That evening, she seemed happy. Pulling out a bottle of liquid that stunk, she would take drink after drink. She would look at the policies and laugh, take another drink, and laugh again. She even wound up the record player and put on one of those black discs that made horrible sounds. Finally, she went to bed and passed out, stinking greatly of the liquid she'd consumed.

The next morning, I awoke not knowing what life would be like without my master. It was my decision to get the woman up so that I could be fed.

Jumping up on the bed, I found something that I still can't explain. There she lay, her eyes bulging from their sockets, with my master's hand wrapped around her throat.

Three weeks later, several men in blue clothes broke into the house. They shouted her name, then went from room to room as they searched the house. When they reached the bedroom they found her.

I still don't know why they were surprised about her missing flesh.

"A cat's got to eat!"

SHE DID WHAT!!!!!! SHE'S KIDDING!!!!!! RIGHT????

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

The Question

 I asked somewhat hesitantly,"Gabriela, are you kidding me?"

"She better be!" I heard Faletame whisper from behind me.

Gabriela curled up in a ball, licked her lips once, and with a slight smile on her face said, "Tomorrow, I'll tell you another one, if, you're still interested."

I'm not sure if I want to hear another one or not.

Do You?

One Quick Poll

Would You Like Too Read More Tales From The Demon Cat?

•  Yes! I loved it! Just don't let her in my house!
•  No! She's too scary! Did she really eat some of that lady?

See results without voting

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Fleas, Wally World & My Demon Cat Returns!

"ACTUAL SIZE" (No, it's not the actual size, c'mon you don't beleive everything you read on the Internet, do you? But in reality, it is! It's the actual size of the drawing I made several hours ago! So, there!)

Source: copyright RCRumple2012

In The Beginning

In the days of old, untold horrors of infestations tested the bravery of even the most courageous of warriors. As man has advanced through the decades, he learned how to control the pestilence of creepy crawly biting insects. The primary purpose of these mass hoards is, and has always been, to survive and multiply to make mankind suffer for entering the realm of Mother Nature.

As survival of man depends on his intelligence and reasoning ability, it is only now that we’ve become somewhat able to fight back against these swarms of unwelcome intruders. This, is the story of one such battle. A battle that has yet to see an ending. A battle in which many lives will be lost. A battle we can only call...

I’ll kill all you damn fleas if it’s the last thing I do!!!!

Faletame, in anguish. "LOOK WHAT'S SHE DID TO ME! FLEAS!!!"

Source: copyright RCRumple2012

The Discovery

She’s done it to us!

Her previous owner had stated that she had just used a thirty day treatment that should have killed any hopes of the uninvited houseguests no one desires. I believed her. I...am a fool!

I have noticed a scratching taking place on the black one. I thought it to be her simply sharpening her razor sharp claws against her leather like hide. It wasn’t a regular occurrence. Yet, I had noticed.

This morning, in a moment of calm, Faletame walked up to me with tears in his eyes. Since the addition of Gabriela into the household, this is not uncommon. His life has changed traumatically. Fear and frustration seem to be his state.

“Hey, Rich, you got a second?”

“Sure, What’s up?”

“The bitch has given me a disease.”

Now, both of these animals have been through the vet’s planned parenthood program. Kittens are not a possibility. My only fear is that Faletame will try to get even with me for taming his male instincts. I envision waking up one night to see him staring at my crotch, claws in the ready position, saying, “So, you think it’s fun being a eunuch, do you?”Claws slashing downward, I awake to reality.”

“Faletame, she won’t let you get close to her. Besides, even if you did, you couldn’t do anything.”

“Oh, rub it in, rub it in! No, she’s brought fleas in the house. I’ve always stayed inside so I wouldn’t have to mess with them. Now, they're crawling all over me! And, they bite like crazy.”

After he showed me his fur with flea trash in it, I knew what I had to do.

My snake needed a mouse anyway (din-din time, Morris). So, without hesitation I closed down my computer (I’ve learned. It’s the only way to keep Faletame off of it while I’m gone.), put on a regular pair of pants for the first time in a week (I’ve grown to love ever expanding sweat pants.) and headed to the pet store.

From Where The Visit Began

Source: copyright RCRumple2012

From Where The Visit Ended

Source: copyright RCRumple2012

Wally World

Two of my very close friends own the pet store. I got to know them over fifteen years ago, and we’ve remained close ever since. I usually take them a DVD or two I’ve recorded off of cable, and pick up a free mouse. It’s a trade off we both can live with.

“Sorry for the inconvenience. We will be closed Wednesday for personal issues. We will reopen again Thursday. Thank You.”

The sign had said it all. My quest was resulting in a complete waste of time. So, did I want to face heavy traffic for 30 minutes and go to the local Pet Smart? No. I simply wasn’t in the mood. Across the street was another option. An option that I didn’t want to consider, but perhaps, one that seemed easier than driving all over creation. WALMART!

Faletame's face appeared in my brain. His poor cries for relief, his frantic scratching and the chance of me becoming a eunuch made the decision an easy one.

I drove across the street and entered the dreaded parking lot. Fearing damage to my Ridgeline, I parked at the far edges of the Wally World parking lot, six miles from the front doors. Many of the customers here drove pieces of junk that they use in a demolition derby style to dent in the doors of decent vehicles as they hoist their 500 lb. bodies out and onto the golf carts (Walmart provides) for those too obese to waddle. Woe to the handicapped individual in search of one.

Not finding a golf cart handy, I waddled to the entrance. Halfway there, I had to remind myself to look for a suggestion box inside. "Dear Wally World, Please include pedestrian rest stops in your Disneyland sized parking lot. Many Thanks, The Fat One!"

Entering, I noticed the lack of a greeter. Then, I remembered the CIA had stopped paying Wal-Mart to employ them. I had paid these spies many times to stay quiet and not tell my friends I had shopped there. No longer would they be around to blackmail. Seeking employment elsewhere, those lucky enough to have green cards now work the drive-up windows at McDonalds.

Looking around, I spied no one that I was familiar with. So, desperation hadn’t hit my friends as it had I. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Carefully, glancing quickly to have time to hide should I happen upon a stray acquaintance from my past, I sped through the aisles towards the Pet Department. There it was, right across from the frozen pizza cooler. How did I know?

Source: RCRumple2012

Source: RCRumple2012

Source: RCRumple2012

Source: RCRumple2012

Not wanting to linger, I quickly found the cat supply area. It was right next to the dog beds. How did I know?

From the top to bottom and up again, I searched for something to battle the invaders from hell. Pet Shampoo, Cat Vitamins, Hair Ball Remover... oh, there it was, between the vitamins and the hair ball remover, Flea Killer. Directly below, a hammer.

Temptation almost overcame me, but I thought the better. I’ve made Faletame too famous. How could I ever explain such an immediate demise? Unlike many other stars, he had no history of drug abuse, nor was he married to Robert Blake or Robert Wagner. Yet, it could come in handy. I grabbed the hammer..

Let’s see, a ninety day supply for $42, a ninety day supply for $14, or a ninety day supply for $10. The choices were almost overwhelming. Having never heard of the maker of the $42 package, I decided to take the $14 package. I didn't recognize that maker either, but it cost me less to get to know him.

I succumbed to the Wal-Mart curse and headed towards the video department. $7.88 Blue Rays... how could I refuse. Most were already a part of my collection, but I did manage to find the Sci-Fi Channel's version of "The Wizard Of Oz" called “Tin Man” and a much needed copy of “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” I'm really just a big kid at heart.

I turned to leave before more money flew from my wallet, only to find a 50,000 item display rising to the ceiling and blocking my escape. Having no option, I grabbed a copy of “The Hunger Games” gambling that I’d have a chance to watch it before the electric company turned off the electricity for non payment. Immediately, the display parted and allowed me an opportunity to leave. I was one of the lucky ones. I imagine there are many still trapped and going hungry.

Hiding behind rack after rack of women’s nightwear and maternity wear guilty pleasures, I worked my way to the cash registers. I knew I would be exposed here as it would put me in full view of anyone entering or leaving this castle of retail hell. Luckily, at 2 p.m. in the afternoon, I felt my luck changing as in front of me waited an empty register lane that actually had a cashier waiting. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

I quickly used my debit card to pay for the merchandise, ran out the door, and waddled the six miles to the far end of the parking lot to where I had parked to avoid the demolition derby crowd. It wasn’t long before I made my way to my house, and I thought, solitude.

How wrong one can be!

RETURN OF THE DEMON CAT !! GABRIELA !!

YOU ARE UNDER MY POWER !!! I AM IN CONTROL !!!

Source: copyright RCRumple2012

... or, how I never want to spend my summer vacation

Gabriela was sleeping upon my entrance. The demonic laughter was not as noticeable during her slumber, but the haunting voices echoed softly as the swirling mists of Hell worked to hide her distinct features and location.

I silently slid along the wall to the kitchen. There, I opened the box of Flea Killer, next to the hammer, and made a decision. Flea Killer would be less messy. Thus, I removed one of the three plastic containers, snapped the top back on the first and headed to what I hoped to be an experience not worth writing about. I’m guessing you know better since I’m writing about it.

I softly knelt to the floor in front of the sleeping beast. Slowly moving my left hand close to her, my right, containing my weapon (Flea Killer... hammer still on kitchen table) found itself also moving forward. "This could go well," I thought at this point.

It was then the demon opened her eyes and froze every muscle in my body with her stare. She spun her head around three times and spouted out profanities about my dead mother. When the thunder and lightning made itself present by the room's ceiling, I knew my luck had run out.

She gave me fifteen seconds to make my move. My left hand began functioning again and pet her under her chin (Yes, I know it’s close to her mouth. So, I’m stupid and brave...okay, just stupid.) and slowly moved to her ears. Was she fooled? I could only hope. No Virginia, Santa Claus is a hoax.

As my right hand with the container approached the back nape of her neck, her nostrils flared. Fire, scorching the couch, raged from within. I quickly tried to apply the liquid before it was too late. Little did I know it already was.

Claws found their way into my left forearm as teeth snapped at my right. Ripping deeply, all feeling left as nerves and tendons were destroyed forever as the claws sought to grate the skin for her evening salad. Still, I had success on my mind.

My right hand struck with hibernating rattlesnake velocity, blurred in the air. The back of her neck received a full shot of Flea Killer as she leapt off the couch, carrying my left arm with her to munch on at her leisure. I hear the bones crunching as I type this... one handed.

I turned to see Faletame, lying on his back, holding one front paw on his stomach and the other over his eyes, laughing up a storm. I remembered the hammer.

Back to the kitchen, I found snapping the new pack a little more difficult with only one arm. The hammer would definitely be easier. Yet, I had made him a star. He had to be good for at least one more hub. And, I would still have the hammer.

He took it like a man... er... dog.... er... cat. The only problem I had with him was aiming as he still was quaking with numerous belly laughs. After applying, I looked and saw a flea on his back toweling off. Perhaps, I should have bought the $42 stuff.

Oh well, as soon as I get the bleeding stopped on my left stub, it’s time for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

And if the cats don’t like it, I still have the hammer.

Disclaimer:

The purpose of this is to make you laugh. Comedy is filled with embellishments of real situations. Many understand this. For the few still believing that I have only a left stub remaining, all contributions can be sent to

Rich Rumple, 1015 Give Me All You Got Ave., Lexington, Ky.

I do appreciate the naive! : )

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

A Day From Hell: Meet Gabriela - Demon Cat!

Gabriella: Demon Cat (Devil's Spawn)

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Preface

There are days filled with billowing white clouds in the blue sky and the aroma of newly opened roses! You stand, radiating in the warmth of the glowing orb above, feeling completely renewed! Your strength is undeniably without limits! Nothing can stop you from succeeding as you rush to tackle the world!

And then, things change.

      Faletame: In a much happier time

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

.

Necessary Background Information

Many of you are familiar with 
my "tell-all" cat, Faletame
 (fa-let-a-me). Remember,
 this is the cat that thinks
 he's a dog (He growls when
 strangers come to the door,
 lies on his back for you to 
rub his stomach and fetches
 a toy mouse). He has
 become quite the celebrity. 
Mind you, I'm not jealous, but 
the amount of comments he
 received overshadowed most
 of my own. This is a fact that
 he will not let me live down.

Life's been interesting ever 
since his 15 minutes in the 
spotlight began. He struts 
around the house daring us
 to get in his way, and when we do, he barks, "Move Fool. Royalty Present Here!" He lies back and yawns when I pick up his toy mouse to play with him and utters, "Oh, reeeaaally, Rich. You need to get a life! Want me to write a story and put you in it?" To make matters even worse, my wife and I now dine on Little Friskies while he enjoys fresh meat and vegetables. He even rubs that in by throwing his toothpicks on the carpet when he's done.

A couple of days ago, he looked up at me and said, "You know, I'd really like one of my own kind to play with. Will you get to it and see what you can do.....now? Oh, and make it female!"

Be careful what you ask for......

Gabriela: Don't let the laid back appearance fool you! This cat's only resting so she can destroy everything left a little later! She's Deadly!!!!

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

Meet Gabriela

Gabriela (as I named her immediately as "G" follows "F") came from a young lady that simply had no need for another cat. She already had two, and a third was becoming just too much. At least, that was the story we were given.

She'd been fixed, after having a litter (Gabriela, that is, not her owner), and needed someone to love. So, putting two and two together, a decision was made to make Gabriela part of our household! What a surprise it would be for Faletame!

Upon entering the condo, my wife and I saw the object of our quest. There she stood, jet black with one tiny spot of white on her stomach, very sleek and muscular, and very attractive. it was almost a case of deja vu as she mirrored the appearance of a black Siamese cat I had owned 20 years ago named "Bernadette." This was a beauty Faletame could love!

Bending over to pick her up, Gabriela put on the "I'm just a shy creature in need of attention and love ...and if you take me home I'll be the best cat you ever had... and you will never want me to leave because I'm so purrrrfect! Don't you just love me?"This cat woman had put me under her spell.

Oh, she put up the obligatory struggle when I attempted to set her in the cat carrier, but slowly, she relented. My wife held the box once we got in the Ridgeline, and all was calm.

The journey home was filled with what seemed to be the moans of a scared cat, not knowing what her future held. We gave the standard, “Calm down... You’ll be okay... we’re gonna love you... you’ll be home soon... etc.." (You know, the sickening sweet crap you usually tell a new cat you think will soon be a cherished member of the family). Gabriela would stick her little nose through the holes in the carrier, and then turn so you could see one of her eyes looking innocently at you. She presented herself as utterly helpless and frightened to death. This, I soon found out, was a ploy. I gotta give it to her, this cat could act!

We arrived at the house and I assumed the role of handling the carrier. Upon entering the house, I spied Faletame, stretched out in the recliner, watching The View, and whispering, “I love you” to Elisabeth Hasselbeck on the screen. He looked up, saw the carrier and smugly inquired,

“So, have you got me a woman?”

Without answering him, I set the carrier down in front of him with the air holes right next to his nostrils. My hopes were that they would each smell each other and develop a gentle curiosity of what the future held.

How To Tell If Your Cat Is A Demon Cat

1. It will fly untold distances with every leap
2. It will groan and moan incessantly each time anyone gets close
3. Its eyes will glow either a green or yellow when approached
4. Its claws do not retract for any reason
5. It will use the bathroom wherever it wants and dare you to correct it
6. All the crosses hanging on the walls of your home suddenly turn upside down

The Demon Cat Appears

At that moment, my first hint of demonic possession came from inside the carrier. Not only did a ferocious hiss and spat shoot out, but so did a black paw with claws a blazing!

Faletame jumped back and looked up at me, wide eyed and shocked, screaming, “You got me a cat? A cat? I’m a dog! Don’t you know cats and dogs don’t get along? Are you stupid or something? No, forget the something ....you’re stupid!”

Little did I know this was only the beginning.

I carried Satan's spawn into the kitchen and opened the carrier. Hell knows no fury... well, you know where that's going! Out she burst with fangs snapping and claws swiping. In blink of an eye, she leapt onto the kitchen table. Seeking no friendships, she proclaimed her association to the Dark Side by arching her back while continuing to hiss with fangs barred as her tail began flipping as a bullwhip trying to slice anything in its path. I looked for the arrow tip at the tail's end, but the speed caused only a blur to be seen.

Faletame, who had followed us to the kitchen, looked up, shaking his head from side to side, and screamed, “She’s a monster from Hell! You’ve brought me a monster from Hell! Damn You! Why didn’t you take me along and I’d of told you.... this is a monster from Hell!”

I had to agree with him. Yet, I knew there was no way to put her back in the carrier in her present state. Maybe, a couple of dozen Hydrocodons mixed in her evening meal might make her more controllable.

The hissing gargoyle then spread her wings and flew 14 feet in the air, landing on the carpet where the living room began. She turned, continued to spat and hiss at us all, and scoped out her new home in the lower realm.

Fluffing his tail, Faletame assured me he could handle the situation and told me to stay completely out of it. Willingly, I complied.

Faletame: Awaiting Further Psychiatric Treatment! A Star Has Fallen!

Source: ©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved

DEMON CAT POLL

Have You Ever Owned A Demon Cat?

•  Yes (It's in charge of the house and listening (I can't talk now).
•  No (I was smart enough to give him away when I saw the signs. HA HA HA HA).
•  I am a demon cat and you're all going to regret answering!

See results without voting

10 Hours Later...

Friends, I am physically and mentally drained. Faletame is battered and bruised. Exhausted, he is now sleeping nervously on the back of the loveseat, high above the damage that has been occurred. A nervous tick in his left eye has developed and twitches even in his slumber. An appointment with a shrink has been set to assist him in overcoming this horrific trauma. He sports the bandages of a battle fought and lost. He may never write another Hubpage again.

What was our furniture is now scattered in tattered and torn pieces strewn throughout our precious home. My recliner is no more, having found no mercy in the shredding claws of the demon. Only my wife, in her ability to remain naive, believes that the worst of the storm is over. She now sleeps behind a locked door.

I’m here, typing as quietly as possible. As my desk chair is notorious for squeaking, I sit petrified to keep it silent. My fear is great that I will awaken the untold fury that has devastated our world of happiness.

I know not what the future will bring. Thoughts of a much calmer time, when smiles were present and laughter heard, are now only memories.

We have entered the era.... of Gabriela!

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2012. All Rights Reserved