"--Don't you know talking cats don't exist!?"

Joe stared at the phone, narrowed his eyes, and flicked his snake-like tongue in anger as if it were the caller himself. He grabbed his hair and sunk back in his chair, galled by the mysteriousness of the caller. He didn’t take the caller seriously when he said he would come over, but nevertheless it boggled his mind why a grown man would be bothering him like a havoc-ridden little fool.

He soon forgot these things and switched his focus back to work; sorting through papers, taking calls, and other mindless deeds to eat away all the time of his life.

An hour passed, and then he began to hear a faint scratching on the door. It began at a tolerable noise level, but soon the scratches became louder and more frequent. Eventually he was forced to leave his cluttered desk and see what all the noise was about.

He opened the door vehemently and saw nothing but his cut-too-short lawn and the alleyway. Scanning in all directions he saw nothing new or unusual, and the scratching sound had stopped. Joe slammed the door furiously and wobbled back towards his desk.

Moments later, the scratching began once again, faint at first, and then louder and louder. With each scratch Joe shook slightly as the skin on his face got tighter and tighter. His face slowly grew red with anger. He kept trying to ignore it, trying to just hold it in and work more. But after several moments, when the scratching was almost continuous and overpowering the hum of his computer in volume, Joe snapped. Wide eyed, he raced towards the door and tore it open.

Hunching like a sick gorilla, his sunken eyes darted across his backyard once again. He stepped out onto the stone staircase and whipped his head about trying to find the guilty troublemaker. Seeing nothing, and once again hearing nothing, he gave up and crept cautiously back towards the door, intensely eyeing the site of the noise crime.

Before he closed the door behind him he heard the sound again. Quick as lightening he turned to see a scrawny black and white cat calmly tuning his nails on the side of the house. Every so often it stopped to lick itself, mocking him with its lack of things to do.

Joe grabbed it tightly by its ruff and shouted, "Ah ha! So you’re the wretched little ghoul doing all that scratching! Well lemme tell you you’re in for it pal!"

The cat just went along with being lifted up in the air. He was loose as a rag doll. To Joe’s surprise, the cat actually made eye contact and then-you won’t believe this-spoke.

"Well hello, Joe. I told you I’d come over, didn’t I?"

Shocked, Joe threw the skinny beast to the ground and jumped backward. He stared at the cat in disbelief.

The cat regained footing and then licked itself. Then it spoke again in the same manly voice that had been on the phone, "Oh don’t be that surprised."

"You--you’re. . .you’re talking!" Joe said, apauled.

When the cat wasn’t talking it looked like a perfectly normal cat, but when it was, its mouth moved smoothly and its face made expressions just like a human. The cat sighed. "Yes, I’m talking."

Joe still appeared absolutely horrified. "What--how. . .Oh no I’ve gone mad!" He clasped his head tightly with his hands and fell to the ground.

The cat walked towards him. "No, you haven’t gone mad. Hey comon now, I just wanted to play with you. Surely you can find time for a little play."