Garfield in Real Life

You are trying to read the morning newspaper when your cat begins pawing at your leg. You brush it away, but it jumps on the table and begins meowing. Finally, the cat speaks. What does she say? Write this scene and what she is trying to tell you.

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466 thoughts on “Garfield in Real Life

  1. TCorr53

    It was a typical Saturday morning which started out with sleeping in and then sitting down with a cup of tea and the newspaper. I glanced over the headlines and then started reading an article in the travel section when I heard a scraping sound. I looked down to find it was just my cat Simba pawing at the table leg and then my leg trying to get my attention.
    “You just ate” I told him. He would eat all day if he could. At 24 pounds he looks like a small mountain lion. “I can’t give you any more food right now. I don’t want you to have health problems.” I don’t know why I talk to him like he can understand me. I think it’s because he looks like he knows every word I’m saying. As I focused back on the article featuring Bed & Breakfast vacations in New England I heard a loud thump as Simba leapt onto the table. “Get down! No more food! I’m trying to read about a trip to a Bed & Breakfast.”
    Then to my surprise Simba’s mouth opened and he said “Well, sign me up. Those are my two favorite things.”
    I jumped back and ran into the family room. My heart was racing and I was shaking in disbelief. “No way, this can’t be happening,” I said.
    “I had to get your attention somehow,” he said.
    “Well, you got it alright and you don’t eat again until 5 o’clock”, I replied.
    Simba just looked at me and said “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere”.
    Not only is my cat talking, he’s quoting Jimmy Buffet. I guess it’s not a typical Saturday morning.

    This is the first time I’ve posted anything. I’m new at this as you can probably tell.

  2. MrsCass007

    “Garfield in Real Life”

    As I read my paper Isis my half siamese, half something else cat came and pawed my leg. Ever since high school I had become the local adoption center. I never knew who or what was going to be brought. A crow, a baby ground hog, a baby bird, puppies and kittens. Oh, yeah a baby pig and a baby raccoon. I guess since I had grown up on a farm that had made me the honorary animal lady to the “townies”

    I was just grateful I had always been able to care for and find homes for the helpless creatures that showed up on my door step. Isis was special and I kept her. She looked like a bob-cat siamese mix. Her eyes looked so human and sometimes I could of sworn when I turned around she would talk.

    This time there was no mistaking it. “Someones coming!” I dropped my paper. ” “You have to get out of here he’s coming!!! Isis scratched me. I jerked up and started running towards the back door. But someone was already there. Isis got in front of me and growled.

    I began to feel power fill me and in a voice that was mine but not yet mine I asked “What do you want?!

    “I have come to take my cat back.”

    “The last time I checked she choose to live with me and your going to have to go through me to get her.”

    It was all a blur. I didn’t know I had it in me. The years of chopping wood and bailing hey was coming in handy in this grisly death match. I hissed and tore out this throat. “Whew…my heart was pounding, blood and sweat dripping off me. As I watched the” cat-man”started on fire and turned into a pile of ashes.

    “What the hell just happened?”

    “You saved me.” I turned and a beautiful blue eyed woman was standing in Isis place. The lady started to cry.

    “I’m so sorry to have done this to you.”

    It dawned on me I felt different. Isis picked me up. Now I was Isis.

    “Whats your name?” My voice sounded the same to me.

    “I was called Lillian , before I was changed.”

    “Lillian it looks like your going to be changing the litter box tonight.”

  3. tightlywound

    I’ve been following these prompts for almost two years now, writing some of them on my own but I’ve finally decided to share one.

    Here we go:

    Placing her cup of freshly brewed coffee down on the counter, Melody pulled up a stool and sat down. She then picked up the newspaper and got to reading. Halfway through the front page she reached out and grabbed her coffee cup. She brought it to her lips and promptly spilled it down her front when her five year old, orange Tabby jumped up onto the counter and scared her.

    She screeched as the hot liquid soaked into her blouse and fumbled to put her coffee cup down without spilling the rest of it. “What the hell Tigger?” she hissed at the cat, knowing full well that he wouldn’t respond.

    Yet she was in for her second surprise of the morning.

    “I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” the cat said, perching on his hindquarters, his tail flicking slightly.

    Melody was stunned into silence.

    “I’ve put up with a lot since we’ve met. You insisting on naming me after that silly, children’s character, putting my litter box in the sun room where I have absolutely no privacy, refusing to hold open the backdoor long enough for me to decide if I want to go out or not, and that’s just to name a few but this is the last straw.”

    Melody was shaking her head, this could not seriously be happening.

    “Oh yes,” Tigger said “for the past month and a half I’ve been leaving out little hints about what I wanted for Christmas. For example the Pet Smart ad I dragged into the bathroom so you could have a little light reading, or how I scratched the back of the couch to hell. All I wanted was a scratching post but then I wake up Christmas morning to find that you’ve gotten me a toy mouse, I already have three of those!”

    “So,” Tigger said as she started into his amber eyes “will you get me a scratching post or not?”

    Melody nodded mindlessly.

    “Good.” Tigger said standing up and jumping to the floor. Melody turned to watch him saunter across the room, his tail held high “Oh and you’re going to want to put that shirt in some cold water if you don’t want it to stain,” he added as he hopped up onto his favorite pillow near the window where the sun was streaming in.

    He looked at her from his spot and they held eye contact for a moment before he turned his head and immersed himself in his mid-morning cleaning routine.

    Melody watched for a moment longer before pulling out her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans and dialing the number for her therapist “Hello Ann, yes, I need to make an appointment with Dr. Todd today.”

  4. MicheleB

    Only four days had passed since my little black mare, Caarja, had expelled her last breath. I’d held her head, comforted on my lap, and looked deeply into her eye – large, brown with black flecks, distant, and with long lashes. With tears running down my ruddy cheeks, and all the time trying to quieten her, stop her anxious struggle, I felt helpless. She soon relaxed to my soothing voice, my calm stroking of her neck and shoulder. The little black beauty stopped trying to fight it, and calmly let go. It’s remarkable the strength we find within us when it’s needed. But later I howled.

    Two day ago I begged my mother, who had died when I was fourteen – I’d occasionally felt her calm and loving presence – to let me know that my beloved horse had not just died, and there was nothing more. It couldn’t be. I wanted so much for there to be another life for animals, for her. She’d been a courageous little girl, spirited, yet always dependable, and gentle. Having been brought up a Catholic during the sixties, I didn’t want to believe that animals had no actual soul. That when they left us – there was nothing.

    The following morning I went through the gate to the paddock. Our other horse King refused to come near me. It was strange, he never backed away, ever. But perhaps he felt the loss too. So, I put it down to that, and let him be.

    At feed time, with James our ginger cat, and Cobber our overweight blue cattle dog in tow, I carried the bucket of chaff and oats towards the horse yard. Unchaining the gate, my dog whisked through ahead of me. It seemed odd. He shot through with his tail between his legs like something was after him, or about to tread on him. I shook off any thoughts and walked to King’s feed bin, tipped his feed in, then returned to the house.

    The following morning was crisp and the sky a bright blue, with the type of light that only autumn days deliver. James bounced ahead of me, his tail straight and heaven bound. He never seemed to mind his soft paws getting wet on the dew soaked grass. Aren’t cats suppose to hate water? He stopped and turned around, as if he knew I was about to talk to him. I laughed.
    “You have an uncanny sense of knowing, James. What is it about cats?”
    James meowed and waited for me to catch up.

    We walked towards the paddock fence, near to the gate, and as we approached I heard a clicking sound. I couldn’t understand what it might be. My eyes darted, and my mind searched for possibilities. Then I saw it. The metal loop locking the gate was clicking. But more, it was sparking! But how could it be? We no longer had electrified fences hooked up, and even when we did the gate was never on. The clicking and sparking continued, but I couldn’t bring myself to move any closer. I just stood there, a little shocked. I jumped – something was around my legs. I glanced down, and saw James, he was purring and twisting in and around my legs. Sort of comforting me.

    This morning I found myself taking longer than usual to sip through my cup of tea. My heart was still heavy, and I only flicked through the Sunday newspaper. Nothing was of interest. I just wanted to know that my Caarja was still there. Tears welled, again.

    Suddenly James was on the table, in front of me. Usually he wanted to head butt, but not this time. He just sat there, tail flicking, as though irritated.
    “Ohh James, I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Just, it’s, ohh what’s it matter. You wouldn’t understand.”
    I shuffled out of my chair and started to reach across for him. “Now come here James, I want to cuddle you.”
    James continued to sit.
    “How many signs do you need?” James almost spat the words at me.
    “What?” I yelled, freaking out in total disbelief.
    “You heard me. Three signs Caarja has given you, and yet you deny them all.” James was a little less aggressive this time.
    “You’re telling me it’s true? That Caarja is still here? And that you can talk?” I collapsed back into my chair.
    “Yes, her spirit is galloping free. She wanted you to know. And yes, I had to talk. You just refused to see. To believe. What is it with you humans – you’ve forgotten the one thing; to trust in yourselves. Your instinct! About being intuitive.”

    James jumped into my lap, snuggled, and purred loudly. I woke up, startled, and gently stroked the soft ginger fur. I looked at the clock – It would soon be time to feed up.

  5. Leanderdias

    GARFIELD IN REAL LIFE
     

    It was a pleasant spring morning in Livingston, Alabama. The breeze was a fresh constant that sometimes carried over the mouth watering scent of fresh food from near by and the heat of the morning sun, mollified by the cool breeze, made it wonderfully comfortable for those like me, who enjoyed reading the news on the front porch with a large mug of fine roasted coffee. Julie Walker would jog conspicuously past my house every morning, and sometimes, if i was particularly lucky, would show me one of her pageant winning smiles. When she waved that day, i was prepared. With my hair neatly side parted, horn rimmed spectacles evenly placed and nose hair efficaciously tweezed, i waved back as if it was no big deal at all. Yes, it thought to myself, it was only a matter of time before she wanted me. A few more smiles like that, and there’d be wedding bells for sure. The birds sang sporadically from the quaking aspen across the road, adding a relevant soundtrack to the fantasies that swirled in my head.

    Gertrude, my frustrating yet lovably fat cat, waddled along the installed wooden railing towards the cream pie i had forgotten to take in last night. More than anything, i wondered how my rotund companion managed to get up there in the first place. It didn’t surprise me that she managed it though, because when it came to food, she was unbelievably resourceful. Although an impeccably unfit cat, Gertrude always seemed to possess a reliable intuition that made up for her lack of feline agility. From her pungent farts that alerted me to the gas being left on in the kitchen to reminding me that the weekend was over by demanding, with incessant meows, her monday morning store bought tuna casserole, Gertrude got me out of many a sticky situation.
    After devouring the pie, she slid down from the rail and nestled like an enormous ginger fur ball next to my slippered feet. I smiled at her affectionate cuddling and continued to read the business section of the daily paper.

    Without warning, Gertrude begins to aggressively paw at my well pressed chinos.

    “What’s the matter Gerty? You hungry?” I say, as get up and bend down to look down at her with palms on my knees. I place the newspaper onto the table and watch her lift her head and turn it towards the street. I follow her gaze and see to my astonishment, Julie making her way to my house from her little one down the road. Sure, i dreamed of this moment many times, but never in my wildest dreams did i think she would actually come by. Julie smiles at me from afar, and i wave nervously from my porch with sweat starting to saturate my trimmed armpits. I start towards her but am halted by a loud meow that resonated from the breakfast table.

    “What now Gerty ?! Julie’s coming” I turn away from Gertrude, and am once again pelted with a fusillade of whiny meows. I stomp angrily towards Gertrude and ask her once again with extravagant exposition what was her problem. As soon as i did, i realized how pathetic i looked; it wasn’t as if Gertrude was going to open her feline jowls and answer me with words i could understand. It dawns upon me that Julie is watching and that i am making an utter fool of myself, so i take a deep breath and turn towards her ready to ignore any further meowing remonstrances from my cat. Suddenly, a shrill female voice with a rather nonchalant tone hollered at me from behind. I jumped around to see who was there and saw Gertrude lazily raise an outstretched paw towards my crotch from the smooth breakfast table.

    “Hey Johnny Smooth,” Gertrude said, with her sleepy feline drawl,”Your zip’s open.

      1. Svapne

        LOL!

        I love the message. Not what you’d expect for first contact. But maybe it would help him out with the lady. :)

        The name Gertrude always makes me think of the duck from Journey to the Center of the Earth- so it’s automatically endearing and cute.

  6. MrChuckles

    Jake sat in his underwear staring into the coffee cup on the kitchen table. The steaming coffee smelled good, but he left it alone, worried he’d puke at the first swallow. Why in the hell had he insisted on all the tequila shots? His head pounded.

    Motor, his cat, pawed at Jake’s pajamas. “Knock it off Motor,” Jake said and flicked his foot. Motor dodged the brushoff kick with ease. Instead of leaving, he jumped onto the table, claiming squatter’s rights on the newspaper. Motor locked eyes with Jake, stared hard, and yowled.

    Jake put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He was thinking about going back to bed when he heard a thin nasally voice say, “Snap out of it you twit!”

    “What?” Jake asked, lifting his head. He looked at Motor.

    “You heard me twit, Snap out of it.”

    Jake stared at the cat with his mouth open. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. By all counts it seemed like Motor had spoken. His mouth moved and his jaws even matched the words. That’s nuts, cats don’t talk, Jake thought. He looked around the room to see who was punking him. But he was alone.

    “Don’t pretend you can’t hear me Jake. You know we’re alone, at least that is if you don’t count that blonde bimbo in your bedroom that you were so enthusiastic with last night. She’s still comatose in your bed, so there’s just the two of us. Face it dude, I am talking and you can hear me,” Motor said.

    Jake struggled to form thoughts in the post alcohol fuzz of his brain. “If you can talk, then why in the hell haven’t you done it til now? We’ve been together for five years for god’s sake. Why now?” Jake asked.

    “Let me break it down for you Jakey. It’s all about reincarnation my human friend…past lives and all that. That shit’s real. I’m proof. I haven’t always been a cat you know. Mind you the cat thing hasn’t been so bad, I mean you can lick your balls for god’s sake. And jump? You wouldn’t believe what that feels like. But I digress. I was a human before, and I want to go back. Correct that, I AM going back,” Motor declared.

    “What makes you so certain?” Jake asked. “You seem pretty cocksure of yourself.”

    “Once you’ve been through the process, you get to know how it works. I’ve lived it. I know it. So let me break it down for you my friend. There are only two rules; first, you have to spend at least five years in your new body. Check that one off Jakey. I just celebrated my fifth birthday. And second, you need a fresh body to move into immediately after someone dies. You lose one, you get to take one, so to speak. We need to talk about that one Jakey,” Motor said, his eyes fixed intently on Jake.

    Jake started to speak again when Motor lunged. He was on Jake’s neck before he could react, claws sunk deep, teeth searching for Jake’s jugular. Motor’s head twisted from side to side as the blood began to spurt from Jake’s neck. He was bleeding out, his hands still clawing frantically at the cat as Jake’s knees buckled sending him to the ground.

    Jake was lying lifeless in his own blood when the Blonde walked out of the bedroom. She froze mid step when she saw Jake. Before she could move, Motor was on her, his mouth latched on hers as if he was trying to give her mouth to mouth resuscitation. But instead of blowing “the breath of life”, Motor sucked hard, pulling the Blonde’s life energy.

    The Blonde was just at the tipping point of losing her life forever when Motor reversed the energy flow and powered his way into her body. Her eyes bugged, her face tightened, and her body flinched at the sudden power pulse. As she did, the lifeless body of the cat fell to the floor. The Blonde visibly relaxed a smile coming across her face. She cupped a breast in each hand and said, “Ah, this is going to be nice. Life is good.”

  7. AmeliaPond

    Hi, I’m in Eigth grade and just getting started here so constructive critisicim is greatly appreciated.

    Emmi sat on her table she was flipping through the morning paper glancing at the headlines over a cup of hot black coffee. She sighed and let it flop closed. Emmi’s light gray cat Taryn meandered over. She bumped her head against Emmi’s leg affectionately. Emmi didn’t look at her she wrapped her hands around her mug and fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall. Her first week of unemployment was not going well, after she had been laid off her boyfriend had dumped her because she couldn’t support him anymore. Taryn was a gift from him so her presence in the house was not helping Emmi sipped and Taryn mewed bumping her leg again. Emmi moved her leg and Taryn huffed jumping onto the table and rubbing her face with hers. Emmi pushed her away and Taryn sat back on her Haunches.
    “Emmi.” Emmi whirled around and knocked her cup of coffee all over Taryn. “Jesus Christ Emmi. I just want Breakfast.” Emmi turned her face back to Taryn who was standing on the other side of the table looking grumpy and covered in black coffee. She stared at Emmi angrily. Emmi pushed her blond hair out of her face and stared. For a moment she opened her mouth and closed it again.
    “Cats,” she said slowly. “Aren’t supposed to talk.”
    “Girls aren’t supposed to mope about their boyfriends when their boyfriends are good for nothing losers.” Said taryn settling down to lick her fur.
    “Now how about some breakfast. Forgetting to feed your cat is also something girls aren’t supposed to do.” Emmi looked into the kitchen Taryns food bowl was half full.
    “Cat.”
    “I have a name you know, you gave it to me.”
    “Cat, you have food.” Emmi said not sure what else to say. Taryn Guffawed.
    “Please, you call that food?” said Taryn “I don’t think so.” Emmi sat rooted to her chair. Not sure what to do. She reached for the phone book. Taryn bored of licking herself sat down on the other side and watched her tail flicking slightly back and forth. She purred and Emmi almost subconsciously reached out and pet her. Taryn stopped purring and laughed when she saw what Emmi was looking up. Strange strangled laughter.
    “Please, a psychiatrist? I’m the one who’s talking, admittedly you did spill coffee on me.” Emmi picked up the phone book and flung it at the cat. Taryn jumped to her feet and streaked from the room. Emmi put her head in her hands and heaved a sigh. Pure panic swept over her. A minute later Taryn pocked her head around the corner.
    “Really though, he was.” Emmi lifted her head. “James was a loser, your better off without him.” Emmi sat up and Laughed slightly through her teary eyes.
    “Wow a cat giving me dating advice, I never thought.” she sighed and moved her chair backwards.
    “He was using you, if he loved you he would have told you, and he would have stayed.” Said Taryn creeping over. “ You’ll forget him soon, and thats best.” Emmi sighed again. Dropped her hands from the table Taryn hesitated and jumped up onto her lap lying across her knees. Emmi scratched her ears absentmindedly.
    “Sure, your right.” Emmi said. “It’s best.”

      1. PromptPrincess13

        Hi AmeliaPond, welcome to Writers Digest! I’m relatively new here myself but I can tell you, the more you post, the more fun it gets. I really enjoyed your story. Your dialogue seemed 100% appropriate for the scene ( I especially like the bit about calling a psychologist) and the characters were well portrayed. I think you have a very good base here, especially if this is your first prompt, and since you are still pretty young. Great going!

    1. Svapne

      First off, I’d like to welcome you. I started branching out in writing back in 8th grade, and I never would’ve had the confidence to post online (I’m 23 now and *just* got that confidence a few months ago, in fact). So kudos to you- I hope you get a lot of good feedback so you can improve over the years.

      Keep in mind that, here, sometimes you’ll get harsh critique. But keep in mind that some people here think that everyone here should be on the verge of publishing tomorrow and should have the corresponding skill set. They’re not expecting an 8th grader. Most importantly, don’t let anyone get you down.

      Now, on to your story!

      There are some issues with punctuation and run-ons, as well as fragments. If you re-read it, you should be able to pick them out. I used to insert a lot of what I felt were “artistic” fragments, but it turns out that people will bomb you for that kind of thing. Use commas and colons for that kind of added description instead. (Also look up semi-colons.)

      Your spelling, however, is quite good, and you don’t seem to be making a lot of the mistakes that a lot of your peers do (they’re/their/there, lose/loose, to/too/two, and that kind of thing). You seem to be ahead of the curve on that one.

      I think you use names a little too much, but I understand that using “she” and “her” when writing a story about two females can get confusing and tiresome. Try using other descriptors, like “the cat” or “the feline” so you can use more generic pronouns when talking about the human. Branch out from the subject-verb-participle format a bit; mix up your sentence structure. Passive sentences are okay too.

      Just like Princess says, your dialogue does seem quite genuine and fitting for the situation; I know I didn’t have that kind of skill at your age. Everything my characters said seemed fake. I still have trouble with that today.

      Lastly, for formatting here, when you type it up in word or some such, set it to single spacing with no extra spaces between paragraphs. That’ll give you a good idea of how it will look here. Just add an extra line between paragraphs. (I’ve noticed though that getting more space than that is impossible… I think you have to use HTML if you want bigger gaps. Or you could put a hyphen or two on some of the lines to keep them from condensing into one space.)

      Happy writing!

    2. Observer Tim

      Welcome, AmeliaPond. I love the flow of the story and Emmi’s reactions are natural and unforced.

      If you want to work on grammar (a good idea, there are some errors here), I would recommend The Deluxe Transitive Vampire, which is good and a lot more interesting read than most texts of its type. When it comes time to publish, they do take away marks for grammar.

  8. frankd1100

    Five thirty on Sunday morning and I was showered, dressed and halfway through my first ‘tallboy’ with two eggs frying in a black, cast iron skillet.

    Tabbs came in through the back door looking beat up. He worked nights and whatever he did out there, it was physically demanding.

    “Tough night,” I asked as he hopped onto his chair by the table?

    “No more than usual,” he said. “By the end of the week I’m usually dragging.”

    “You want breakfast,” I asked?

    “If you wouldn’t mind…two eggs raw over one of those chicken cutlets from yesterday?”

    “Coming right up,” I said, taking a cutlet from a container in the fridge. Since I was already there, I grabbed another beer.

    “Your eggs are getting cold,” he said as I dropped the cutlet on the skillet.

    “They’re fine,” I said, placing my breakfast on the table, moving quickly back to the stove. I transferred the warmed chicken onto the monogrammed dish Millie had given Tabbs before she left us, sliced it into six pieces and cracked two eggs over the top.

    He was busy combing snags and dirt from his long, white, puffed up fur as I set his plate on the table. “Do you eat with that tongue,” I said with a chuckle?

    He looked up at me with a quizzical expression unique I think to Persian cats and said, “How else would I eat?”

    “I was just busting your chops Tabbs.”

    “Me too,” he said. “Thanks for breakfast.”

    Tabbs stood on the chair placing his front paws on the table on either side of the plate and devoured the eggs and chicken. Finished, he dropped to the floor licking his face and went back through his door onto the deck I’d built for Millie when things were good.

    I cleaned up, found another beer and went through the door into the bright sunlight of a glorious autumn day. Tabbs was stretched out on his side luxuriating in the sun that warmed the deck for most of the day. His ears twitched when I opened the door and his tail flicked once or twice.

    “I like these days,’ he said, without opening his eyes. “The air’s clean and the falling leaves haven’t been matted by heavy feet and drifting snow.”

    I took a good pull of ice cold, Iron City beer and said, “fall and spring are my favorite seasons. The fall is calming somehow, and springtime feels hopeful and vital.”

    “She’s not coming back,” he said, unmoving, lying still as death.

    “I know and I’m okay with it now.”

    “Are you okay without the alcohol,” he asked?

    “Not sure. I haven’t gotten to that stage yet,” I said.

    We were quiet after that, I might have napped briefly myself. At about one-thirty I went inside to the den and turned the television on to a football game. Before I sat down, I went back to the kitchen for another beer.

    1. Observer Tim

      A great story, frankd. I especially love the natural way the human just starts talking to the cat, like it happens every day. And you’ve done an excellent job using the cat as a foil for some good-quality introspection on the part of the human.

  9. Kylero

    I could feel the sun hitting my shoulders, warming the back of my neck through the window behind me as I sat head-deep into the computer screen, reading the pages of spreadsheets.

    Thirty-two pages in and five more to go. Five more to conquering the virtual reality of numerically defined people and items. Five – before Gary hopped off the floor onto the table, his front two paws knocking over the coffee over onto my laptops keyboard.

    “Damn it, Gary!” I yelled, shooting out of my chair to the paper towels which hung across the room. I snatched three and rushed back to the table, waving away my feline foe.

    “Shoo,” as I patted the papers on the keyboard. It’s that sad moment where you know no matter how much you clean off it won’t be enough. The coffee had set in, infecting it’s sensitive electrical core. Still, I tried turning it on, but it was silent.

    “Bad cat!” My hand clutching the towel tight enough to turn my knuckles white as Gary sat, staring at me. “I had five more pages. Five pages,” I said amid a sigh, sitting back down and laying my head upon my clenched hand. “And now,” hitting the crescendo, “my computer’s dead.”

    I sat, fuming, and stared at the ground, past the linoleum and whatever laid below it into the unescapable reality that I have no computer.

    Virtually homeless.

    Until the thud of Gary’s four legs shook me from my spell.

    “Gary!” I said, waving him away, but the cat didn’t move. “Didn’t you learn from the first time,” I said, waving at him again.

    “Didn’t you? I didn’t move the first time. Why would I move the second?”

    Standing, I pushed the chair back with enough haste I thought it’d fly, crashing out the window. I pointed.

    “You can talk!”

    “Duh.”

    “You’re a cat. Cat’s don’t talk.”

    “Mmm, I think your logic is all screwed up.”

    I must’ve I said something, but I refuse to write illegible babbling.

    “Relax.”

    “Relax? You’re a TALKING CAT!”

    “Oh, well yeah. That’s shocking, but this whole computer business? Come on. It’s not that big of a deal.”

    I stared. Silent. I mean, what do you say to a talking cat?

    “Look, I know you like your toy and you’re always playing with it, but it’s just a toy man.”

    “B-but,” I stutter to begin, “All my work… those spreadsheets and –”

    “Exactly. Look Dave there’s no easy way to say this but you’ve changed. When you first brought me here, you were always outside. Playing with your kids. Your wife –”

    “Ex-wife,” I corrected.

    “Yeah and why do you think that is. Look man, you’ve got to get out. These spreadsheets can wait, but the people you love won’t. You’ve got to go live, because what’s life worth without living it.”

    I sat down and laid my head on my hand again, trying to comprehend it all.

    A thud landed on the table, jostling me awake. Just beside my full cup of coffee sat Gary, motionless. Silent.

    Closing the computer, I grabbed my coat off the chair’s backrest and left.

    1. Observer Tim

      Good story, Kylero. Even though it was all a dream (or at least mostly a dream), it’s nice to see the main character’s reaction. Too many people concentrate on one part of their lives so much that other parts slip away unnoticed.

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