Wicked Witch

1DAILY PROMPTS:   Write about evil: how you understand it (or don’t), what you think it means, or a way it’s manifested, either in the world at large or in your life.
I may not understand much about evil but my cat made it clear she had been hording evil thoughts about people eating tuna.

She doesn’t care too much for the aroma from the tuna escaping my bagel when she has her head buried in her crunchy cat food.  She doesn’t pay attention to the sound when I tear the lid open either.  I know she loves tuna but I discovered she loved it more than I imagined.  To prove the point, my sister drops by one day to show off her newly adopted cat named Mercedes.  Naturally I thought my sister would love to enjoy a tuna sandwich with me.  Opened another can but this time, for some reason, the sound of the lid snapping its release was unusually loud.  The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly rose to peaks.

With a vicious slap I felt something attach itself to my back almost knocking the breath out of me.  I screeched while frantically climbing the walls to reach the next level, which was the ceiling.  I groped desperately for a hand hold on the massive light fixture above and practically wrapped my legs around my neck for fear I was hanging a little too loose.  Imagine that.  Feeling I was just a little too close to the floor where whatever I was scared of was waiting.  But it wasn’t waiting.  It was already up here with me.

My cat had taken a dive and landed on my back latching itself on like a crab.  I don’t remember her being that heavy.  I could feel her nails viciously searching for skin to get a better grip.  Perhaps it was to keep herself from falling to the floor below. I cringed as she hung from my sweater hissing in my ear as if telling me, “how dare you feed the human my tuna!”

I dropped to the floor and removed my sweater to get her and her wicked ways off me and flicked it to the other side of the room.  Still she clung, swinging back and forth as the sweater flew threw the air.  During her flight, she was glaring and grinning from ear to ear at the can still lodged in my palm.  She seemed to be calculating, weighing the situation.  Then she hissed again with some sense of satisfaction.  Not at me this time, but at the can of tuna.

I got myself some serious goose bumps — where’s my other sweater?

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