Cat and The Other One

So there I was, bleeding out, in the middle of some noname wooded area, after being stabbed by an honest-to-God sword.

How did I get here, you ask? Well, that could be answered in many ways, but the short version was it's all Greg's fault. He's into this weird LARP thing and some of his role-playing buddies from an online forum had finally arranged to meet in person -oh, sorry, 'F2F'. Ugh.

Greg's my roommate and too chicken shit to go anywhere alone, and he also doesn't own a car, so he blackmailed me into coming along, -he was in posession of a rather compramising photo envolving myself, two dozen hotdogs, and a face-paint booth that looked way too much like a porta-potty for its own good- well played, Greg, well played.

Anyway, I went to some weird LARP thing, found out some personal things about a giant of a man named Doug -his girl friend left him for an accountant and took the dog with her- and for the most part i coulda just sat back and watched, maybe read a book. Simple, right?

Wrong. Dickens -not his actual name, but he refused to give out his real one- was what one would call 'hard core' and what another would call 'crazier than a baseball bat wearing a ballet slipper'. He was a weedy looking mid-thirties man, and probably worked as a janitor on the nightshift. He took the game seriously and got his panties all knotted whenever someone broke character.

With that information, I'm sure you could guess that Dicky did not like my presence as a bystander. Not that I cared. The guy could go jump into one of his imaginary dragons' maw for all I cared.

In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have said that out loud. When the others were all off on their 'expadition' I settled to take a nap. I woke up with a litteral sword in my side. That Dick had broke from his group and stabbed me! With his crazy eyes he broke off into his villian monologue -oh, sorry, he's the hero- and pulled his stupid, oversized toothpick out of my side.

Now, I pride myself in many things but I'm man enough to admit I teared up a bit from the pain... Okay, I cried like a little whiny baby bitch. I didn't catch much of Dick's soapbox speach over my own wails, but I definately heard that bastard say, "Hush, 'tis mearly a fleshwound, ye cowardly villian!" and that's when all of my previously pent up childhood bitterness about my mom and her housewife fury came to the forefront. So I kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!"

Why Dicky was hopping on one leg my near dead fight or flight kicked in and told me quite firmly, Flight. So, I managed to use that newfound adrenaline to get my ass off the ground and run into that stupid, no-named wooded area, after being stabbed by a honest-to-God sword. I looked down at my still bleeding side and tripped on a well hidden root.

And that's how I ended up lying on the ground in the middled of this stupid, no-named wooded area, after being stapped be an honest-to-God sword.

And I'm pretty sure I'm dead now. The world is spinning and fading around me, I can hear my cat, Cat, crying in my ear for food, I can no longer feel my side. Or my hands. Breathing is coming slow... slow... slow...

"Mrrrroooowor!"

"Gah!" I jerk awake to find Cat and her sister, The Other One, sitting on my chest and kneeding claws in my side, respectively. I blinked as the dream faded away.

"Huh? You stabbed me!? Stupid cat!"

"MRRooooRoW!"

Then I died and my cats ate my corpse. Greg came home after his LARP game three days later, let my cats out of my room, and complained about how I needed to do laundry, because I smelt awful. It would take another week of the guy to realize I'm dead. He hired a sketchy maid service and got a new roommate named Doug. I haunted them for the rest of their lives.

My cats were rehomed to a guy named Richard Dickens and would outlive three more owners before mysteriously disappearing.