Lemme tell you something…

Posts tagged “Cat

CAT WATCH

catCAT WATCH
Copyright 2016 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

I don’t believe in magic, so what happened to us after the fire I can only chalk up to a reality I’ve never experienced, that can be rationally explained by science beyond my understanding.

The night before the fire our little house was rumbled by thunderstorms – lightening storms to be accurate I guess. It was all more electric than rain. Living in a farm house about 30 miles from our nearest neighbor and around 100 from the nearest town, we thought it was safest to stay indoors and not attempt driving to a safer place.

The next day we awoke to smoke.

Connie bounced off of the bed, her feet already moving, in air, before she touched floor. She ran to the window, throwing the curtains aside.

“Our farm’s on fire!”

Fearing the worst, we got on the roof. Everywhere we looked our fields of sorghum were ablaze. We were surrounded by fire.

Thinking fast I ran to the tractor to hitch the furrow while Connie got to the water pump and brought it to full pressure.

The fire closed the circle around us, but at a risky, yet not fool-hardy distance, I followed along the closing circumference of the ring, digging a shallow trench of dry moat around our house. Connie tossed the water hoses into the ditch. Then, all we could do was wait as the water slowly filled the moat.

Our house was the axis pin of the approaching fire, our livestock were getting fidgety, and I didn’t want them running into the fire to escape. it. Animals make weird choices in a panic so, except for the chickens, we tied all the livestock to the posts closest to the house.

Firebug embers floated overhead.

“We should have watered down the house,” Connie said.
“I know,” I answered. “One thing at a time.”

I ran to the wheelhouse where we kept all of our fire extinguisher canisters. Though a fire this large was unheard of, crop fire isn’t an unknown quantity on the farm.

The heat created a smoke typhoon, choking us, so back inside the house we went. Either the moat was going to work or it wasn’t. Whatever was going to happen now was out of our hands.

We opened our front door and the cat ran out.

I should correct myself.

At that time in our lives, “a” cat ran out, as we didn’t own a cat.

She ran out of our house, tail in the air like a question, and toward the moat and fire. Not knowing what was going on, but instinctive to me as a man born and raised on a farm, I immediately ran after it to bring her back to the relative safety of the house. You gotta save the livestock.

She ran through a still dry part of the moat and right to the fire’s edge. Where she approached – and this is what knocked me for a loop so hard I could only stop dead and stand there, jaw agape – the fire stopped, then retreated.

She slowed to a walk and instead of running toward one part of it, she walked along the edge of the ring. The fire backed away, the circle began widening. She walked the large ring around our house and the fire not only retreated, it shrank. That part makes sense to me. It already consumed the fuel of our fields behind it. It had nowhere else to go.

In an hour the approaching fire was out. In two hours the smoke stopped. In the distance, we could make out the rest of the fireline still burning as it moved outward in the opposite direction away from us and into adjacent farms. The circle widened as far as the eye could see. We became an oasis.

The cat that saved us, now our cat, sat on her haunches near one side of the burnt rim. And there she stays to this day.

She never moves away from that rim, even when it rains. And when it does rain, there’s no more lightning.

Year after year, little by little, our crop circle grows, extending further out into the char, and they grow well. That’s good because, for whatever reason, neither Connie or I can step beyond the circle of plant life and into the burnt area. It’s not like we bump against a wall. More like we try to move into the burnt ash and our bodies just won’t obey.

It’s the same with our livestock. Nothing that can walk or fly moves into the ash. Hopefully in time, the ring of plants will extend enough that the burnt circle isn’t there any more. Connie and I would love to see our friends and family again.

In the meantime, at least we’re alive.

Electricity works, but not the phones, the Internet, no communication at all. I’m glad we have so many books.

Another weird thing is our kitchen. All of our food in the cupboard never runs out. Not the flour, the rice, the coffee, nothing. It’s always full.

As for the cat, she never seems to eat. If I go out to her, she appreciates a kindly pet on the head or scratching her back a bit. She purrs, but remains at her post. She stays there at the edge of the circle, staring at the charred rim as if defying whatever is on the burnt side to confront her.

One more thing I should write down here is, we never named her. To us she’s The Cat. The Cat who came into our lives at just the right moment. Considering the circumstances, we feel we belong to her as much as she belongs to us.

Fact of the matter is, she’s the one who chose to come into our lives and she’ll be the one who chooses when to leave.

END

Story by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Art & Artist: Unknown. If you can prove you are the artist, please contact me and I’ll credit you.


pb300Make sure you have enough books for any emergency! Buy my book
PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection
A trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller – plus bonus stories
Featuring: True Love, Weird Sex, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).
Buy the paperback from Amazon and get the kindle free!

Burning for more?

Look for my second collection, WILLOW BLUE and Other Stories
Five critically acclaimed tales featuring my literary twist on Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem! $8.00 for the paperback, $1.99 for the kindle reader or app. As always, buy the paperback from Amazon and get the kindle free!

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself as well as Ray Bradbury, John Carpenter, Wes Craven, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, and many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.


I’ve No Idea

ECI’VE NO IDEA
Copyright 2013 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

I’m alone most of today, it’s lunch time, so I go to the fridge to see what we’ve got.

I start moving things around around…

Hm.

This clear glass container with a plastic lid.

What is this stuff?

I open the lid to get a better look. Yuck.

What the hell is this stuff?

This doesn’t look like food. Not any food I would eat.

In fact, it’s so repulsive looking that I won’t even give it the sniff test. i mean, if it smells as bad as it looks?

My brain’s ID configuration exhausted, my imagination takes over and that’s when things get bad.

It looks like… like something that belongs in someone in a pudding of gooey vegetables. I guess they’re vegetables. Asparagus kind of string bean tomatoes? But the main thing. The kind of centerpiece to it all. I’ve no idea.

I mean, of course it’s not a brain or heart or any recognizable organ like that. But it still looks like some… Thing … that a person shouldn’t, or couldn’t, do without.

I just got a shiver looking at it. Well screw this, I definitely don’t like it and I’m feeling a little ticked at my wife for putting this damn thing in our refrigerator of all places. This doesn’t belong with food. It creeps me right the hell out.

What’s the damn point of having this disgusting thing in our refrigerator?

By this time my mind, running all over the place, is throwing volumes of stored memory this way and that in search for an explanation, still hasn’t figured out what I’m looking at. It’s so bizarre my hand holding the container, is nearly moving by itself further from my face. As if the damn thing might leap at me like the facehugger in ALIEN.

So what do I do?

I cover it back up, put it back inside the refrigerator, and close the door firm, that’s what I do.

That damn thing is just wrong. Wrong!

It’s so unexpected I’m surprised that I’m getting emotional about it. I’m scared, angry, frustrated at not being able to identify it, and hurt that my wife would put something like that in there.

What kind of person would do that?

Oh for fuck sake, what the hell is wrong with Me? With all of the great years we’ve been together, Lucy loves me, that’s a fact. Last week when I slipped in the rain and cracked my head, hell, she was the one crying.

Now I’m kinda glad I’m alone. No one can see me turn into such a sniveling baby over some spoiled food in the fridge. Jesus, dude. Get a grip!

She’ll be home soon. She’ll have a sound, calm explanation of whatever that thing, that god damn thing is, and I’ll have a private laugh over my drama queen imagination.

…and paranoia.

Yeah. My wife will be home soon and that crap in the refrigerator will make sense. I’ll dispense with my overreaction so much that, once I know what it is, I’ll probably even eat it.

Ha! Yeah! It is likely part of something we already ate! It’s a stupid leftover! That makes all the sense in the world!

Well, definitely lost my appetite. I’m back in my room with my computer to wait for my wife.

Now I am writing this goofy blog, letting everyone know. Hey, we can all be idiots sometimes, right?

Lucy will be home soon and balance my world again. That’s what couples do. Keep each other on keel.

You know, she prefers to change my bandages instead of letting me do it. I can never put the fresh ones back on just right. She also checks my stitches as the angle is on the back of my head. Man I really wolloped myself good. Lucy loves me and I’m a fool for getting so scared.

The cat is in my lap. The dog is near my feet, Lucy will be home soon. All is right with the world.

Except down the hall in the kitchen, some unknown god damn Thing in a jar is squatting among the food we eat.

Why can’t I bring myself to describe the ugly mess? Well I think I’d go nuts. “That way leads to madness.” as they used to say.

Wait. Wasn’t I just over this? What, am I slipping? This is absurdly childish. I’m too old and grown up for this nonsense.

Yet I am still fixating on that crap in my house, in the fridge, in the cold, in the dark, currently unseen among all the other food That I Eat.

Whew!

I could leave the house, take the cat and dog with me. Because, well, they shouldn’t be left alone with that thing.

Oh god damn it! Stop stupidly obsessing, fool! Why am I being so weak?

Lucy will be here soon. I’m not going to call her! I’m not going to ask about that shit in the fridge. This whole blown-all-out-of-proportion matter I’ve created has me on edge and she knows me. She’d hear the fear in my voice. She’d want me to go back to the doctor.

No, way. Not over something I just know is going to have a normal, even mediocre reason, for being in this house.

I could take a photo of it and put it online.

My friends could probably identify it and then, then everything would be okay.

No. I’m not going to do that. What would I do if they can’t identify it? What if They freaked out? That would shoot my paranoia into overdrive.

Or worse, what if they can identify it and that fucking thing has every reason to send me over the edge?

Christ! The more I think about it, the more incriminating it is. God damn I wish I knew what the hell it was!

What?

What was that?

Oh, it’s just the fucking floorboards creaking. Old house and all. Dog would be barking his head off, the cat would be upright and hissing, if anything weird was happening.

Chill out, man! Just chill the hell out.

Everything will be okay.

My wife will be home soon.

END

Copyright 2013, E.C. McMullen Jr.


wb2016Don’t wait another moment to find more stories in my book,
WILLOW BLUE.
It’s my second collection of critically acclaimed Supernatural and Drama Thriller short stories with all of the Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem, you’ve come to expect (or should by now). Available in paperback for $8.00 or in Kindle for only $1.99. Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free! The tales will last you longer than latte!

Want to raise your fear factor?

PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection.
It’s a veritable trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller tales – plus bonus stories
Featuring: Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).
Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free!

Fill those bare shelf spaces!

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself, as well as  John Carpenter, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, also the late  Ray Bradbury, Wes Craven, plus many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.


A Day In The Life

Friends often slap me around a bit before saying, “Stay with me Feo! Feo! How many fingers am I holding up?”

To which I usually reply, “Holy crap! Where’d you get those bloody fucking fingers?”

But people also ask me, “Just what is a day in the life of Feo Amante like?”

Well the fact of the matter is, it’s none of your god damn business. But since I’m not a complete hermit, I’ll give you a peek into a day in the life of me!

Paul Newman in a sombrero in the Hispanice Food aisle of the WalMart!

Paul Newman on a jar of cheese, with a handlebar mustache, in a sombrero in the Hispanic Food aisle of the SpamFart.

(Loud Chorus of Angels!)

Let’s imagine that my day begins at my nearby Superstore, which in this case is a WalMart. In our current Capitalist paradise, I’m moseying along among my fellow citizens, when what do I spy but…

HISPANIC FOOD!

(Loud Chorus of Angels!)

WamLart has an entire section… well, half of a section. Well okay, about half of half of an aisle dedicated to Hispanic food! Now the wonderful ethnic people among us, contributing to our culture and life, have their own part of the grocery that they can call their own!

Yes they’ve really arrived!

With this section of a subsection in my local WoldeMort, in a state where the majority of citizens *are* Hispanic, they can truly feel their culture contributing its part to the great U.S. American diaspora!

And what is more intrinsically Hispanic than a jar of processed cheese featuring a smiling Paul Newman wearing ratty mustache and a sombrero?

Can’t you just feel that national pride beaming from the hand-drawn face of Paul Newman: Star of such movies as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (where his character is shot to death by Hispanic soldiers)?

Oh My Screaming God! (that would be Azathoth, the mad, one-eyed, etc.) Paul Newman’s corpse must have really REALLY arrived to be a part of the multi-cultural history and traditions inherent in the Hispanic Food section!

Oh, if only he was still alive to enjoy it this moment that I’ve been fortunate enough to capture for the ages in a photograph.

See, this is just part of the excitement of being me: Making New Discoveries.

These are the things that touch my artistic soul.

I’m saying soul in a metaphoric sense, not a euphoric one.

Canadian Sock Monkey!

Canadian Sock Monkey!

Now let’s leap from Mexico to Canada!

Mainly because I want to show off my Canadian Sock Monkey image, which could be available as a T-Shirt and is already available as a coffee mug, print, and who knows what else at DeviantArt.com.

Okay, so how do you know it’s a Canadian Sock Monkey?

It’s wearing a tuke (or toque, or even tuque. Heh! Canadians!).

But more to the point –

You like sock monkeys?

Seriously, do you?

You do?

Well that’s not good enough.

You’ve got to LOVE sock monkeys! You’ve got to have a Screaming Orgasm – or at least a Sex On The Beach – when you see a sock monkey to come from where I’m coming from.

Yes, when you see a sock monkey, you’ve got to be so damn awed you need to reach for a behavior altering alcoholic beverage!

Truthfully, a shot of whiskey will work.

It doesn’t have to be a complicated drink like a Sex On The Beach. Most people don’t keep all the mixings on hand to make a drink like a Sex On The Beach at home anyway. You’d be surprised how many people get home and they forgot the Peach Schnapps. And there’s no Beach without the Peach.

Then it’d just be Sex. And you don’t want just sex, do you?

Although you may want to have sex with a sock monkey if you REALLY love them (see what I did there?). Lots of socks get loving, though few are sock monkeys.

Wine Monkey! It's a Sock Monkey condom for your wine!

Wine Monkey! It’s a Sock Monkey condom for your wine!

So have I got you in a good alcoholic sock monkey mood yet?

Good! Then if you need to reach for a drink every damn time you see a sock monkey, let me present…

WINE SOCK MONKEY!!!

Oh My Fucking GOD! (that would be the goddess of sex, Oshun. Look it up). A sock monkey to keep your wine warm!

Now this next step is vital.

Because what’s important is planning ahead. So get the garden hose ready: you’ll need it!

Get a shovel and dig a hole in the backyard because you’ll need a deep one for what is about to happen to your friends.

Did I forget anything?

No, I just haven’t finished.

Better set a plastic drop cloth beneath your dinner table before everyone sits down, because they will absolutely Shit themselves when they see you bring out the wine in a motherfucking Sock Monkey Wine Warmer!

Why the hell would anyone want their wine warm?

Who the hell cares?

That’s not the point!

It’s a god damn oven mitt for your wine!

And when they’ve cleaned themselves and you’ve dropped the soiled plastic drop cloth in that backyard hole? Better lay out another sheet in the living room (although by this time the drop cloth should arouse suspicion), because your guests will (on the other hand, who knows what they’ll think after they’ve had enough warm wine?), puke in sheer ecstasy when the game you bring out to play is none other than…

Sock Monkey Foosball!SQUEE!!!

Sock Monkey Foosball!
SQUEE!!!

SOCK MONKEY FOOSBALL!!!

What insane genius is inventing this crazed, brilliant crap?

Wherever they are, I hope they are breeding more of their kind! The planet needs to be overrun with such people (it’s the only reasonable thing that could possibly stop the Zombie Apocalypse.  Not to mention the upcoming Alien Invasion*. Truthfully, the Asteroid Holocaust will probably be a wash. I don’t see any amount of foolhardy behavior offsetting that one).

*No, not the Hispanic one

Okay, okay, let’s slow this down now, because after those three things my heart was about to burst from my chest. In fact, when I bent over to pet our cat, blood squirted out from my eyes. You’d think that cats would just dig the living shit out of getting shot in the face with hot human blood, but you’d be dead wrong!

Cats hate that shit.

I’m simply stating fact.

So calm yourselves. Breath deep. Come on, simmer your shit the fuck down, muchacho!

God damn. This is why I don’t hang out with you people. You don’t know how to be cool.

Okay, are we all little Fonzies now? Good.

This one is for the old fogies.

Remember Spirograph? Before the age of highly advanced computers and graphics programs and the people who actually knew how to use the damn things, we made art with ball point pens. Write on, brothers, write on! With a nylon tip Write Bros. pen!

With Spirograph by Hasbro, a clod with any half-assed manual dexterity could make fascinating, mathematically pure rings of intrinsic detail to send any budding M.C. Escher racing to the shower to rub out a quick one.

Yes, you old fogies, you KNOW those were the motherfucking days. Kids today, they have no respect. And you should know because you let the TeeVee and Barney the Purple goddam dinosaur raise your lazy murder of dim-witted boobs. And those dim-witted boobs are now the proud parents of drooling tools whose faces are spittle-glued to their iPhones.

But let’s set your worthless parenting skills aside for the moment because…

Look at what I saw in the Barnes and Noble last night –

THE BOX!

THE BOX!

It’s the goddam motherfucking SPIROGRAPH!

Okay, okay, it’s not “called” a Spirograph” (likely for lawyer reasons), but Paul Beck’s creation does what the Spirograph did!

*And* Barnes and Noble had the sucker on sale!

Am I shitting you?

The back of THE BOX!

The back of THE BOX!

Nay! I shit thee not!

Whew!

So after such a reckless day of stroke inducing excitement, me and the missus, ended this rollercoaster trainwreck by hitting the La Madeline, catching a few hot bowls of Tomato and Basil soup (I’d walk a mile for a hot bowl of La Madeline’s Tomato and Basil soup! Add a handful of shredded mozzarella cheese on top: Blissful Perfection!), bread, and coffee. Then I sat my insufferably cute self right down and kicked my boots up beside the fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

Kickin' it by the fire

Kickin’ it by the fire

See you at Feo Amante’s Horror Thriller.

Adios from 2012, amigos!


Live a little when you buy my book
pb300PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection
A trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller – plus bonus stories
Featuring: True Love, Weird Sex, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $2.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).

Find my second collection, WILLOW BLUE and Other Stories
Five critically acclaimed tales featuring my literary twist on Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem! On sale for $1.99 and available for your Kindle reader and App!

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself as well as Ray Bradbury, John Carpenter, Wes Craven, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, and many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.