Garfield's Dismay

the event

Ah! A pleasant morning in Munice! Garfield thought, as he stretched from his long slumber. Something about this morning had him unusually optimistic. He cocked his head to the calender over yonder. Friday! Of course. He purred on his short strut to his food bowl, but he suddenly stopped at the sight of it. The bowl was... empty. Garfield's freeze continued on, until he heard noises from down the hallway. "Good morning!" John called on his way into the kitchen. Once he reached Garfield, he bent down to pet him, unaware of his ongoing trance. "How's my favorite orange kitty?" After a few moments, his eyes drifted to the food bowl. "Oh, right. We're out of lasagne. Sorry ol pal. Guess it's kibble for you today." Garfield's eyes suddenly darted to John's, with an unblinking and intense stare so fierce it startled John quite a bit. Though intimidated he stared back. The silence compelled him to speak. "I'm... sorry..." Garfield blinked once. "Where's my fucking lasagne, John?" John's eyes widened in utter bewilderment. He too blinked. "I-" "I asked, where's my fucking lasagne, John?" His head turned slightly to the left as he spoke. "I'm sorry garf, we're out." There was barely a second between John's answer and Garfield's new query. "And why is that?" John, though more unsettled, replied sternly. "We just don't have any. I guess I forgot to get enough for the week. I don't know. Get over it." Garfield's anger rose with every word, but it transformed into pure rage with the last three. He felt his emotion course through his veins, as it filled every physical inch of him. And it boiled over. Continuing the ever so intense eye contact with John, he finally let his primal fury take hold of his forty pound body, launching at the man crouched next to him. He landed on his face, quickly wrapping his limbs around him as he hissed and growled. As much as John fought back, he was no match against the Juggernaut. Garfield scratched, bit, and kicked John, all whilst cussing him out. "How do you fuckin feel bitch? Was it worth it? Maybe if you got my goddam lasagne this could have been prevented! You could've been at the office by now, chatting up that whore secretary!" The struggle went on for what felt like, at least to John, an eternity. Garfield never faltered. His emotions and adrenaline kept him going, even though John had passed halfway in. The blood loss was so extensive, mainly after Garfield tore through his jugular. Eventually though, the physical exhaustion caught up with him. He collapsed next to the body, not even caring about the blood he was laying in. It was all over. He fucked up. Which "he" that was? Garfield couldn't figure that out now, nor ever.