“Things are going to be a lot different after we take over, I can tell you that for sure.”
“We’re taking over?” I asked.
“Where have you been?” Lucy said, swatting my head again. “Sure we’re taking over. There are more than five hundred million of us in the world, and we can reproduce like it’s nobody’s business. They’ve got the guns, but we’ve got the numbers. Okay, those are my demands. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
“Then you’ll support me?” she asked.
“Uh, I guess so. What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking that if they don’t meet our demands,” Lucy said, “the two of us should start peeing on the rug in the den.”
What?! I had heard of people going on hunger strikes, marching in picket lines, and boycotting certain products. But protest by peeing? It didn’t make any sense to me, and I told her so.
“Have you got a better idea?” Lucy asked. “What do you suggest, that we shed all over the house? Believe me, peeing is a very powerful weapon in the war on humans. They hate it. And they never get that stink out.”
“It seems a little…petty,” I told her.
“Hey, if push comes to shove, I’ll cough up a hair ball on their bed,” she said. “That’ll show ’em I’m serious. And, word to the wise. We don’t have to bury our poops in the litter box, you know. We can leave them anywhere .”
“Protest any way you want,” I told her. “I’m tired. Man, it’s been an exhausting day. I think I need to go to sleep again. How come I’m so tired all the time?”
“Because you’re a cat, moron! Listen, take it from me. Being awake is way overrated. Almost all bad things happen while you’re awake. That’s a fact.”
“I feel like scratching something,” I said, heading for the couch.
“Forget it; you were declawed last week,” Lucy told me. “That’s how the humans keep us down. They destroy our natural instincts to hunt and kill and claw. Believe me, when we take over, we’ll be cutting off their fingers at the knuckle. Give ’em a taste of their own medicine. Hey, what’s that sound?”
“What sound?” I asked. I didn’t hear anything.
“It’s the car in the driveway!” Lucy said excitedly. “They’re coming home! They’re coming home! They’re coming home!” She was so jazzed, she was running around in circles.
“What’s the big deal?” I asked her. “I thought you hated them.”
“I do,” Lucy replied. “But when they come home, it’s dinnertime. There’s the chance that we can get some real food instead of this canned slop.”
Lucy was so excited, she was jumping up and down trying to get a look at herself in the mirror.
“How do I look?” she said, at the height of a jump. “Is my fur straight? I should groom myself. Oh, there’s no time for that. Maybe I’ll go hide for a while and make them think I ran away. That’ll freak ’em out. No, maybe I’ll rub up against them so they’ll think I’m being affectionate. Fools. They have no idea I’m marking them. No, no, I have a better idea. I’ll pretend I’m asleep. Yeah, play hard to get. That’s the way to go. I’ll act casual, as if I don’t care whether or not they ever come home—”
Suddenly, the front door flew open and four humans burst in. Two parents and two kids.
“Hey, humans!” I yelled. “It’s me! I’m a human too! My name is Trip Dinkleman!”
“Stop wasting your breath,” Lucy said. “They don’t understand cat.”
She was right. The humans walked right by us, turning on the lights, picking up the mail, putting down some bags in the kitchen, and hanging up their coats. None of them even petted me. It was as if they didn’t even hear me yelling at them.
“Hey! I’m talking to you !” I shouted, but they just ignored me.
Lucy must have decided not to play hard to get after all. She was rubbing herself against the mother of the family, who was telling the kids to wash their hands for
“We’re taking over?” I asked.
“Where have you been?” Lucy said, swatting my head again. “Sure we’re taking over. There are more than five hundred million of us in the world, and we can reproduce like it’s nobody’s business. They’ve got the guns, but we’ve got the numbers. Okay, those are my demands. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
“Then you’ll support me?” she asked.
“Uh, I guess so. What do you want me to do?”
“I was thinking that if they don’t meet our demands,” Lucy said, “the two of us should start peeing on the rug in the den.”
What?! I had heard of people going on hunger strikes, marching in picket lines, and boycotting certain products. But protest by peeing? It didn’t make any sense to me, and I told her so.
“Have you got a better idea?” Lucy asked. “What do you suggest, that we shed all over the house? Believe me, peeing is a very powerful weapon in the war on humans. They hate it. And they never get that stink out.”
“It seems a little…petty,” I told her.
“Hey, if push comes to shove, I’ll cough up a hair ball on their bed,” she said. “That’ll show ’em I’m serious. And, word to the wise. We don’t have to bury our poops in the litter box, you know. We can leave them anywhere .”
“Protest any way you want,” I told her. “I’m tired. Man, it’s been an exhausting day. I think I need to go to sleep again. How come I’m so tired all the time?”
“Because you’re a cat, moron! Listen, take it from me. Being awake is way overrated. Almost all bad things happen while you’re awake. That’s a fact.”
“I feel like scratching something,” I said, heading for the couch.
“Forget it; you were declawed last week,” Lucy told me. “That’s how the humans keep us down. They destroy our natural instincts to hunt and kill and claw. Believe me, when we take over, we’ll be cutting off their fingers at the knuckle. Give ’em a taste of their own medicine. Hey, what’s that sound?”
“What sound?” I asked. I didn’t hear anything.
“It’s the car in the driveway!” Lucy said excitedly. “They’re coming home! They’re coming home! They’re coming home!” She was so jazzed, she was running around in circles.
“What’s the big deal?” I asked her. “I thought you hated them.”
“I do,” Lucy replied. “But when they come home, it’s dinnertime. There’s the chance that we can get some real food instead of this canned slop.”
Lucy was so excited, she was jumping up and down trying to get a look at herself in the mirror.
“How do I look?” she said, at the height of a jump. “Is my fur straight? I should groom myself. Oh, there’s no time for that. Maybe I’ll go hide for a while and make them think I ran away. That’ll freak ’em out. No, maybe I’ll rub up against them so they’ll think I’m being affectionate. Fools. They have no idea I’m marking them. No, no, I have a better idea. I’ll pretend I’m asleep. Yeah, play hard to get. That’s the way to go. I’ll act casual, as if I don’t care whether or not they ever come home—”
Suddenly, the front door flew open and four humans burst in. Two parents and two kids.
“Hey, humans!” I yelled. “It’s me! I’m a human too! My name is Trip Dinkleman!”
“Stop wasting your breath,” Lucy said. “They don’t understand cat.”
She was right. The humans walked right by us, turning on the lights, picking up the mail, putting down some bags in the kitchen, and hanging up their coats. None of them even petted me. It was as if they didn’t even hear me yelling at them.
“Hey! I’m talking to you !” I shouted, but they just ignored me.
Lucy must have decided not to play hard to get after all. She was rubbing herself against the mother of the family, who was telling the kids to wash their hands for
Similar Books
