Stories written by InferKit but I make the theme HÄR HAR

Story 2.

This is a really long one.

I grabbed my cat and violently licked it. I kept going and going, licking and licking until there was almost no hair on its body. Just because there is no hair, did not mean I would stop. I will lick through the skin too. Does that make me a psychotic madwoman? If you think so, go ahead and slap me hard on the back, how about that?

She has a name, but let's just call her Randa for the rest of this article, just in case I mess up any later on. She was such a cute kitten. I would even say, the cutest kitten I had ever seen. In her pictures it looked like she was being picked up by a young girl, who looked like she wanted to play with her but wanted to do it as softly and peacefully as possible, in case she wanted her help feeding her.In fact, I did everything for her, from changing the litter to feeding her when she needed it, and even preventing her from doing things that might be dangerous to her health, like open windows or step outside, since my landlord had absolutely no idea how to deal with a cat. I was forever providing her with a safe and comfortable living space.Maybe I did more for Randa than anyone else in this house ever did, although I'm pretty sure that most of the people living in that house were more than happy to let me do so.Fast forward some years, when I'm a bit older and apparently even more weird. It's at this time that the whole question of cats becomes clear to me. You see, we had an old cat who lived with us. She was not all that bad. I had to get her in the beginning, since I couldn't bear the thought of being without a pet around, but after we started hanging out, I got to like her. She was a small, black cat, named Cindy. And since I had no idea of what to do with a cat at the time, I took the obvious step of assuming I knew what to do, and so I decided to move her into the apartment with us.At least, this was my assumption. Cindy did not agree. If she could actually talk, I'm pretty sure she would have said something along the lines of "dude, don't you know who I am? I'm Cindy!"The place where we were living wasn't a very happy place for anyone, so it was clear that she wasn't happy either. So I decided to get rid of her.Not that easy. She belonged to my brother and me. I couldn't just grab her up and stuff her into a carrier and take her out of the house where she was comfortable and love was flowing freely. My brother and I, especially me, both worked and so we weren't there for the majority of the day. Cindy would often go around to our neighbors' homes and greet them, hoping they would be so kind as to keep her company. Many of them, after finding out we did not have a feline around the place, were too nice to refuse her.Cindy would spend her days sleeping, walking around the house, chasing her toy mice, and of course getting her dinner whenever she wanted. She would sometimes sit next to me and rub against my arm, or just tap me on the arm or head when she wanted attention.One day, about six months after she moved in with us, I was telling my brother that I was going to do the right thing and find her a new home.This resulted in what I'm pretty sure was the longest conversation that I have ever had with him. I'm talking about an hour and a half. He would not stop talking. At some point he even started playing the game Tetris on the computer to avoid answering my question.At some point I told him that I had decided to give her a proper 'burial.' When I finished, he stated that there was no way in hell he would ever give her a proper burial. And so I called my mother, who came over to the apartment. My brother and I carried the body out to the backyard and buried it in the hole I had made for it, and we made plans to get rid of the horrible horrible creature I had killed.The thing is, I was still pretty young. I didn't really know much about animals. I did not know what would happen to Cindy if she lived outside the house, and what would happen if she got sick. I was pretty sure that my parents would not be responsible for anything, since as far as I knew, they couldn't even take care of themselves.So of course, I did the only thing imaginable. Lick the damn cat until it died. When we 'buried' it, it was missing almost all of its hair and huge holes and patches of skin. No one knew what had happened, except me. And of course, I didn't tell a soul.For weeks, I had to look at that thing. It smelled horrible. I couldn't believe that I had done such a horrible thing, but it was too late. People at work would ask me what happened to the cat, and I just lied and said "Oh, he ran away."I never told anyone about the cat. Not a single person. I am not sure why I did not tell anyone about it. 

Ok this one was really weird but I love it