Story 2 of The Cat Trap: Blood

Toaster and I have been under this wood slack for who knows how long. He is, like, the bestest  friend ever. He is always reassuring me that everything will be okay, and that we would solve this mystery. And he is so calm, he could totally blast your head off of your body. But he could never do anything over the fact that we were stuck under Igor’s home for twelve hours now. “I think we should really go out now…” I whisper, slowly crawling out of our cozy little hideout. The stars were out, and the lustrous black sky illuminated the earth. As I breathed in the fresh air, deep into my lungs, something clawed me backwards. “Youch! What was that for?” I glared at Toaster who slouched  and started to laugh. I scowled. “Sorry,” he said between laughs, “But your face…” He quickly got up and faced me. “We should go in the morning.” What was he talking about? Igor would be awake in the morning! “Do you know anything about spying? We have to go before he wakes up!” Toaster frowned but then nodded and said, “Well, I will be out here if you are in trouble. Always good for backup!” I rolled my eyes. He really had no taste in spying on people. I mean, I do it all the time with Kayla Girl–we spy on Mommy Lady and Daddy Man when they are working in the kitchen. I miss them so much. But, as me and Toaster had promised, we would think very less of our family. “Alright, I guess I am going in.” I knew how to open doors–it was way too easy. So I climbed up a bunch of stairs of wood and I wondered why the door to Igor’s house was so… high up. I stopped when I reached the door. Maybe it was because I was so afraid, but it couldn’t be that, because I had promised myself that I would never be afraid of Igor (or his name) again. Which would be hard. My lungs tighten as I push the door open with my flank, a crackling creak reverberating throughout the gloomy entrance. The only words to really describe it were, dark, gloomy, scary, and dangerous. Well, I don’t know about the last one. I wish Toaster was here with me. Actually, I wish a lot of things. I wish we didn’t have to come here. I wish I could see my family, just once, maybe with a crystal ball. I wish… that I could rescue all of these tortured cats in a giffy without any problem whatsoever. I wish that I could have this feeling… that I was appreciated… oh, whatchamacallit? It starts with an L… alright, whatever. Back to business. I ducked real low, afraid something from the ceiling would fall and hit my head. I sniffed furiously, hoping to find any sort of scent that would lead me to– “Grrrr,” a cat which was hidden in the shadows growled. I jumped. This was not the cat that I saw getting captured. As I watched fearfully, more and more cats cornered me, until dozens of cats were circled around me. I felt like vomiting as a big, menacing shadow leaned over me, but ended up being a short black cat. It was grubby and just slightly pale, with lopsided fur and grey eyes. It’s claws were as sharp as Mommy Lady’s kitchen knife, which she had to return because she was afraid Kayla Girl would cut her finger. It was incredibly sharp. I knew that at this moment I should probably meow for Toaster, but he was talking about calling him if anything happened with Igor. What was I thinking? Were we rescuing these cats? I rolled my shoulders and performed a squeaky preach, “I am not here to harm you. Actually, I am here to help you. Save you. Igor is not your rightful owner”–some of the cats hissed in disagreement–“and I will fix that. So come with me, please.” I could feel all of the cats preparing to attack, but the short grubby cat poked up its tail. “Now, now,” his crackly voice said, “Give this little one a chance to speak! I know what you’re all thinking–and I respect that. But I also respect–” A large brown cat with menacing yellow eyes pounced right at my face. Its sharp claws glistened and I shut my eyes closed. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. Maybe Toaster was right and Igor’s cats were the death wish? But weren’t we supposed to rescue them? My thoughts were interrupted by a loud shrrriiiip! and the next thing I knew was that my eye was cut.

“She’s alive!” I heard a dog bark. It was very, very familiar–I just couldn’t remember. I couldn’t really remember anything, just a big slap of pain. And then fainting. “Oh, Archie, you’re alive! You’re really alive!” then I remembered where that bark came from. I couldn’t see, but I said, “Toaster! What in the world?” he looked me up and down before he pounced on me, licking me like I was his owner. “I am so sorry, Archie. I would’ve came for you, but I was too late! And now…” he licked the eye which I couldn’t see from. “You lost an eye.” I froze. I couldn’t breathe properly. I thought that, since I just woke up from being fainted, my eye was too ‘tired’ to open up. I never thought that… “I made sure Hector was well beaten-up. You know, the cat that clawed your eye? Well, I just pushed him into the pond behind Igor’s house…” Toaster continued. A cool liquid trickled down my cheek, and when I licked it, the taste was pure bitter. “Bleh,” I said and made a face. Toaster licked the rest off of my cheek and spit it on the grey grass. “Blood,” he said. “The other cats are back in Igor’s house–debating whether they should come with us. They felt bad for you, when they saw me dragging you out of the house from your scruff. One of the cats came out and told me everything–a very kind thing to do. They even offered for you to rest in there with them and pretend you’re one of them, and you could keep an eye out for Igor while you’re at it. At least you’ll have shelter.” I guess Toaster was pretty good at this spying stuff. The plans were perfect–but he just missed one important thing. “What about you?” Toaster look down at his paws, wondering what to say. “I will stay as your backup over here in our little den. Don’t worry, I will be safe!” He added when my jaw dropped. This was horrible–first I get clawed in the eye and then I leave Toaster? “And you will fit in,” he continued. “All of these cats have something wrong with them–diseases, large scars, and for you, a clawed eye.” I glared at him, but I nodded. I knew he was right. This would make things easier, as long as I stay away from Hector. We would figure out how to get all of these cats latched to our side–yes, even Hector–and save them from the evilness of Igor Death.

I wish his last name was Macintosh.

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