Nouilles au fromage rouge.

C'est la vie

Monday morning, you could never bring yourself to wake up on time- only on Monday's. Why did you hate them so much? Was it because the weekend had finally ended, or that you were forced to leave the comfort of your home to make ends meet? Both, actually, You couldn't stand the public, they just didn't understand you. How could they? All you ever were in school was the boy who wanted to fuck foxes or dragons- when you only wanted to kiss a cat girl. One time. Your Monday morning crisis finally came to its usual halt when your alarm clock went off for the sixth time. You were extra late today.

After you tore through your apartment for a clean pair of pants and your juul you finally began the twelve minute walk to work. Your plugged your headphones into your phone and began to listen to music by Tobuscus from literal ages ago. All of your friends hated your music, but it was okay. You were used to people hating things you enjoyed. One long drag from your mango juul and the walk seemed to come to an end, unfortunately. Like a zombie, you drug yourself into your working establishment and punched yourself in as working, when really you hid in the back away from everyone- only occasionally doing your job as prep cook.

Hours passed and you began to shake and concuss from the lack of the mango haze you grew to be in love with. You took your lunch break without word, sneaking out the back just so you could taste juul once again. You brought it to your lips before something brushed against your leg- you quickly looked down to see a fat orange cat roll over onto its back and expose its belly- a wholesome gesture from what appears to be a feral cat. You fought with yourself before reaching down to touch its belly; the cat let out a sweet purr as you touched its doughy, formless tummy. As you rubbed him sensually, you felt the kitty's tummy grumble. A feral cat acting sweet for food, you assumed. You obliged, worming back inside to find something to feed him.

A few minutes later, you returned with a plate of half-eaten lasagna. The cat couldn't be picky, right? You sat down near the cat, the plate meeting the ground with grace, too. The cat seemed excited, zooming over to be able to gorge itself with the succulent taste of pasta and red sauce. You watched in utter horror as the cat nearly unhinged its jaw to be able to take in more of the lasagna- it couldn't eat fast enough. In what you assumed to be record time, the cat finished the dish and approached you with lust in his eyes.

You thought you were dreaming as the cat swayed itself towards you- right? Nothing like this would happen over lasagna. You reached out towards the cat, allowing it to sniff your hand- there was still red sauce on the tips of your fingers. He began to lick it off slowly, his rough tongue sensually lapping up the remains of sauce. Before you could pull away, the cat wrapped its tiny paw around your wrist and began to take your index finger into its mouth and pressed it to the back of his throat. You were scared, but kinda had an erection. You couldn't stop him, his grip was too tight. You visually began to panic, but that only gave Garfield power. One finger became two, and the two turned into your entire hand. You pulled and pushed him away with no gain, you could feel your hand reach his warm, miry stomach. You were rooting through lasagna with you hopes something in there would make him stop, but he only gurgled and shuttered as your hand pressed against the lining of his stomach. Garfield took in more, now up to your shoulder. He would kill himself if he tried to swallow you whole, right? You thought so, until the orange feline took the next step and gobbled on your head and shoulders. Groaning and flailing, you protested as much as you possibly could at the time- but nobody could escape this fate. In under a minute, your entire body had been consumed by the harmless, feral cat. You opened your mouth to scream, but it was quickly filled with a thick mixture of half-digested lasagna and stomach fluid. The foul, curdled mix made you vomit immediately. It wasn't a good reaction for you, now stewing in your own making and Garfield's. You squirmed and rolled in the fleshy cocoon to find no exit. You had so many regrets, like not hitting you juul one last time. If this was how it was going to end, you were determined to hit it one last time. You shifted and let your hand swim through the vile spew to find the juul pod in your pocket. You pressed it against your lips and inhaled not only the juul, but the fluid you now incubated in. Your lungs filled with the mélange, causing you to choke and sputter until the darkness grew in your vision. The end of you now, in Garfield's warm, gooey salmagundi.

The cat purred and belched, slapping his stomach as he felt your soul exit your body. "Good boy." He whispered, now falling fast asleep.