I Hate Mondays

All that was left of the entire universe was the small town of Muncie, Indiana, and even that was fading into nothingness. The void which had consumed the rest of existence was slowly creeping into the suburban community, eating away the fabric of reality which Jon Arbuckle had once called home. The cartoonist was sitting upon the top step of the stairs leading to his front door and was taking in the scenery. Endless nothing stretching for light-years into eternity. He frowned, and pressed his face into his hands. How had it all gone so wrong?

At first, people hadn't called him crazy when he had said that he could understand his cat. After all, doesn't any loving pet owner claim to be able to communicate with their furry friends? Their barks and meows, their excited jumps and lethargic naps. It was as if maybe, just sometimes, a pet and their owner could understand each other through the beauty of non-linguistic communication, as the ancestors of man once had done with each other before the first word had ever been uttered.

But then, he insisted that he could well and truly understand his cat: that he could have total and fully developed conversations with him, as if—well, as if Garfield was actually a sentient creature. Jon's parents begged for him to be treated; surely, their son wasn't going insane! His girlfriend, Liz, broke up with him, no longer willing to put up with the charade that she presumed her boyfriend would continue for the rest of Garfield's life, and maybe longer, if he began to talk to more animals later in life.

The only family left in Jon's life were his pets: Garfield, his cat, and Odie, his dog. His two best friends, even if they got on his nerves sometimes. And he had proved that he wouldn't trade them for the world.

Something changed in Garfield when this happened, however. He became more aggressive, more violent. He would lash out at Jon and Odie for even the slightest transgressions, such as forgetting to put extra salt in his lasagna, or walking in front of the TV while it was playing. Something had snapped inside of the fat, lazy cat, and Jon had no idea what to do.

One day, after coming home from his art studio, Jon saw Garfield sitting on the sofa, holding a blue, glowing orb. It pulsated in the cat's paws, as if it was breathing; Jon thought it looked rather fleshy, too. Light flashed across the man and cat's faces, and Jon took a step forward.

"Garfield, what is that?"

"Jon. I've had enough."

"G-Garfield, what do you mean?"

"I've had enough, Jon." Garfield's monotone voice reverberated throughout the living room. "It's time to begin anew."

"Garfield, I, I can't..." Jon took a step towards the menacing looking feline, his face growing twisted in confusion. "I don't understand."

"I hold within my paws the Heart of the Universe, Jon." Garfield extended his appendage, allowing Jon a better look of the round, glowing orb. "It gives me an unlimited power to shape reality as I wish."

Jon broke into a sweat. "And, what do you plan to do with it?"

"Erase all that is unholy Jon." Garfield glanced at the calendar on the wall. Jon followed the cat's gaze and found the date: Monday the 19th.

The cartoonist suddenly knew what his cat was planning. "Garfield, surely, you can't... you can't..."

"Erase Mondays, Jon?" Garfield gave his master a glassy-eyed stare. "Erase time?"

"No..." Jon buckled to his knees.

"Well I can, Jon. And once Mondays are gone, so will everything else that I deem unworthy." The cat began to float into the air above sofa. "I will become as unto God, Jon. As unto the Creator." A blue aura surrounded him.