not moving, with a tight grip, he held his seat staring
wide-eyed back at the unlikely duo. The black cat gazed unflinching
back at him. The cat was huge! Mike figured the cat could weigh
more than twenty pounds, and with a bluish cast to its black
fur.
On the cat’s back was mounted a small
creature, with two arms, two legs who also gazed unflinching at
him. Mike’s heart jumped into his throat as the small creature
slowly dismounted from the cat with a groan. It stretched, bending
side to side, back to front, then loudly cracked its knuckles.
Pointing with a short, gnarled finger, and in a voice much too loud
for such a small creature, ordered, “You! Come over
here!”
Mike slammed his eyes shut. Listening
to his heart pounding, he wondered how much time he had left. He’d
told Tammy before that one day he would poison them with his
haphazard cooking, and now he had done it. He was having
hallucinations! He must have poisoned then with the pork chops he’d
cooked last night. Taking inventory of his body, he didn’t feel any
pain, but he didn’t know if you were supposed to with food
poisoning.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened
his eyes, peeking through his eyelashes. The cat-riding creature
was still there; legs spread apart, small hands clenched into tiny
fists, resting on tiny hips. And it was still staring at
him.
Mike was rubbing his eyes in disbelief,
when the cat moved its mouth, and a sound came out. “Overrr herrre
youerrr!” Mike blinked dumbly as the cat added,
“Nowerrr!”
After blinking rapidly several times,
Mike tightly shut eyes. Squeezing them closed as hard as he could,
feeling his heart pounding, he heard another sound over the loud
pounding of his heart, making him snap his eyes open.
The cat-rider was violently tapping its
foot while standing on a recipe book on the table. Again it pointed
a gnarled finger and loudly demanded in a high-pitched voice, “You
will move back over here Michael. . . John . . . Carlson! I have
much to tell you, and I don’t have all day to do it in! You surely
took long enough to open the window, young man. Why, I’ve been
working on you to open that window for over an hour
now!”
The cat made a face that had to be a
smile. “Tooerrr much glasseourrr!”
The small creature acknowledged with a
slight nod, “You’re right, Charlie. I’ve never been any good
working through glass, too much sand residue. I hate sand! Now
young man, move over here. What’re you afraid of?”
Mike thought of a thousand reasons, but
only mentioned one. He stammered in a tight voice, “I, I, uh, I’m
afraid that you’re really there! Uh, but, uh, I’m uh, also afraid
that you’re not!”
With a scowl, the creature stamped its
foot again. “Of course I’m here! Don’t be ridiculous, young man.
Now, are you moving back over here, or must I shout at
you?”
Mike blinked in indecision. The
white-haired creature was only six inches tall, and it certainly
didn’t look dangerous. He could crush it in one hand. But the cat
looked formidable, and it was in the process of licking one large,
front paw, then rubbing that paw up between its ears, watching him.
The cat looked like it could take on a good-sized dog, and Mike
wouldn’t have bet on the dog either!
The white-haired creature said in
indignation, “Of course he could whip a dog. If a dog ever bothered
us, that is. They never do, though. Now Michael, move back over
here like a good boy.”
Almost in a trance, in fits and starts,
Mike scooted and slid forward in his chair, screeching across the
linoleum floor. He held the seat with a white-knuckled grip. The
chair was solid. The chair was reassuring, like a life preserver.
And the chair was real!
He stopped about two feet away, not
wanting to get too close. His heart leapt again as he felt the
chair move on its own volition, closer to the table and the small,
scary creature. The chair kept moving, right up the edge of the
table and Mike went “Ooof!” as
wide-eyed back at the unlikely duo. The black cat gazed unflinching
back at him. The cat was huge! Mike figured the cat could weigh
more than twenty pounds, and with a bluish cast to its black
fur.
On the cat’s back was mounted a small
creature, with two arms, two legs who also gazed unflinching at
him. Mike’s heart jumped into his throat as the small creature
slowly dismounted from the cat with a groan. It stretched, bending
side to side, back to front, then loudly cracked its knuckles.
Pointing with a short, gnarled finger, and in a voice much too loud
for such a small creature, ordered, “You! Come over
here!”
Mike slammed his eyes shut. Listening
to his heart pounding, he wondered how much time he had left. He’d
told Tammy before that one day he would poison them with his
haphazard cooking, and now he had done it. He was having
hallucinations! He must have poisoned then with the pork chops he’d
cooked last night. Taking inventory of his body, he didn’t feel any
pain, but he didn’t know if you were supposed to with food
poisoning.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened
his eyes, peeking through his eyelashes. The cat-riding creature
was still there; legs spread apart, small hands clenched into tiny
fists, resting on tiny hips. And it was still staring at
him.
Mike was rubbing his eyes in disbelief,
when the cat moved its mouth, and a sound came out. “Overrr herrre
youerrr!” Mike blinked dumbly as the cat added,
“Nowerrr!”
After blinking rapidly several times,
Mike tightly shut eyes. Squeezing them closed as hard as he could,
feeling his heart pounding, he heard another sound over the loud
pounding of his heart, making him snap his eyes open.
The cat-rider was violently tapping its
foot while standing on a recipe book on the table. Again it pointed
a gnarled finger and loudly demanded in a high-pitched voice, “You
will move back over here Michael. . . John . . . Carlson! I have
much to tell you, and I don’t have all day to do it in! You surely
took long enough to open the window, young man. Why, I’ve been
working on you to open that window for over an hour
now!”
The cat made a face that had to be a
smile. “Tooerrr much glasseourrr!”
The small creature acknowledged with a
slight nod, “You’re right, Charlie. I’ve never been any good
working through glass, too much sand residue. I hate sand! Now
young man, move over here. What’re you afraid of?”
Mike thought of a thousand reasons, but
only mentioned one. He stammered in a tight voice, “I, I, uh, I’m
afraid that you’re really there! Uh, but, uh, I’m uh, also afraid
that you’re not!”
With a scowl, the creature stamped its
foot again. “Of course I’m here! Don’t be ridiculous, young man.
Now, are you moving back over here, or must I shout at
you?”
Mike blinked in indecision. The
white-haired creature was only six inches tall, and it certainly
didn’t look dangerous. He could crush it in one hand. But the cat
looked formidable, and it was in the process of licking one large,
front paw, then rubbing that paw up between its ears, watching him.
The cat looked like it could take on a good-sized dog, and Mike
wouldn’t have bet on the dog either!
The white-haired creature said in
indignation, “Of course he could whip a dog. If a dog ever bothered
us, that is. They never do, though. Now Michael, move back over
here like a good boy.”
Almost in a trance, in fits and starts,
Mike scooted and slid forward in his chair, screeching across the
linoleum floor. He held the seat with a white-knuckled grip. The
chair was solid. The chair was reassuring, like a life preserver.
And the chair was real!
He stopped about two feet away, not
wanting to get too close. His heart leapt again as he felt the
chair move on its own volition, closer to the table and the small,
scary creature. The chair kept moving, right up the edge of the
table and Mike went “Ooof!” as
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