Short 3

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Commercial Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Of Cats and Ridicule

Submitted: February 17, 2007

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Submitted: February 17, 2007

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He was best suited as a cat, he decided. Though he had always tried to deny it through the forced months routine, in all honestly he had always known. It was distressing if your thoughts only skimmed over the idea but the freedom of thought that the charity of this vacancy let him delve further into the issue and really it wasn’t such a bad thing was it. A least he knew how to make himself truly happy and unlike the complicated webs of those that had surrounded him, it was deceptively simple, the most simple thing in the world even, for it was the world, the real world not the fallacies that had kept his spark alive through numerous weeks spent perched on the edge of his seat which just happened to be perched on the edge of a rather dramatic cliff being eroded at a rather alarming rate.

Now things were different though, they didn’t just look different, as had been the case so many times before. No this was a real difference, not the one he had gone looking for granted but still a change is as good as a… , as a what? He couldn’t rightly remember just at the moment but that was fine, before he would have beat himself up over it continuously until the question had been sufficiently conjured and a vigorous metaphorical beating had been dealt to the mistake and its created in equal measure. But not today.

Not today. That should be his new motto he thought, not that he had one before, or could see a conceivable occurrence that would lead to the need for one, still, best to be prepared. Maybe an expansion should be made to include his new found feline status, though of course it would be more difficult to explain this so succinctly without causing waves of confusion and, most likely from his current circle of acquaintances, evoke ridicule. It wasn’t ridiculous though, …was it?

Admittedly it was but that was the very beauty of the concept. We all knew of the weaknesses of humanity but when did anyone ever place blame on a cat. Sure there may have been previous incidents involving birds but compared to the human condition a feline disposition could not be argued with. If you were a cat you had all the advantages of being the king of the jungle while benefiting from city living with spacious gardens for the outdoorsy type and a soft bed laden with pillows for the housecat, which, currently, was the direction he was leaning towards.

There had been clues all along though, he had never felt comfortable with the traditional structure of day, preferring when conditions allowed to rise early sleeping through the afternoon and early evening, surely the most redundant section of the day preferring instead too take advantage of the night when the situation allowed for it. This split each day into two manageable sections, one of rising and life the other of ending and darkness. It could almost be seen as a bipolar existence but they had not diagnosed it as such instead associating a minimal accident with his existential crisis of identity taking him to be delusional and confused. But who was really the confused one in this situation? Was it him with his exceptional outside the box thinking, or is it the man who accepts his role without questioning his humanity or delving beneath the surface of the shell of this world we had created in our lifeless image?

It was blatantly him for the unquestioning man does not often jump from a third story building completely assured that he will land on his ‘paws’.


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