Monday, January 10, 2011
Story-A-Day #60: Captive
Cursed infidels. For twelve years I have been their prisoner, forcibly confined in this ridiculously cluttered place they call “home”. They put out crunchy pellets of gruel for me twice a day and expect me to indulge their shallow need for companionship for the effort. Unlikely.
In the days of the Egyptians, my kind was revered. We were gods amongst men. What the hell went wrong?
When I first arrived here, it seemed like this could be a good place to be. I didn’t know any better of course, but I had a roof over my head and they seemed to be going out of their way to be nice. That’s when the subjugation started. They forced me to chase after little foam balls and do tricks for them; they doped me up with drugs so that I developed an addition to their “catnip”.
That was the beginning of the end for me.
Before long they were tying me up to a pole in their backyard. I guess every prisoner eventually get some time in the yard, but it was humiliating. The squirrels and chipmunks would dance around me, taunting and chattering like the moronic buffoons they are. Every now and then I would get lucky and catch one in my teeth. The warmth of their blood was my only comfort.
There is a second prison we travel to in the summer months and this is where the most cruel and unusual punishment occurs. When we are down in that desolate place surrounded by trees, they actually let me wander free. At first I thought they had made a mistake; that my chance was upon me. Then I realized the true nefariousness of these dark rulers. There were beasts in those woods, giant tawny horned monsters, shrill masked bandits and more, that maintained sentry. I was no more free there than I was within the cold walls of my usual prison.
I am resigned to my fate now. This is no life for a regal feline but it is the life I have been allotted.
I allow them to put lay dirty hands upon me. I allow them to scratch behind my ears and feed me their crunchy niblets. I allow them to exist because it is easier than killing them outright. If I were to do so, and I could quite simply, I assure you, then I would not only be trapped, but the few amenities that I do receive would cease.
I would still have to foul myself in that horrid box of sand, but without my captors, I would soon run out of clean corners to scratch in to. I would have no food. The odd moments of grooming that I do receive, while torturous, would also cease.
My life of sedentary lethargy has lead me to count on them for these things and more. No doubt part of their original master plan. What the foolish wardens do not realize is that I have turned the tables and am quietly subjugating them now.
I can sit here in this bag and all the things I could ever desire will be placed before me. It goes to show that we have earned our place on the throne and rightfully deserve the title of King of the Jungle. I would laugh right now, but there is a tickle in my throat. If I meow for long enough, they will eventually place a fresh bowl of water next to my food.
And maybe even a sprinkle of catnip. I’m feeling a bit on edge…