#aboutlastnight (ONC 2020 Shortlist)

A Little Bit of Tom&Jerry

For the first time since this thing started, I'm grateful to be in Damian Bradely's body. Why? Because he's not squeamish and he's fast. Well, not that I was easy to intimidate or slow #girlpower #workingoutismandatory, but if it were me, I'd probably be wearing a cute outfit of babydoll dress and stilettos, so chasing a tiny demon in an open living apartment could've proven dificult.

As it is, Damian's muscles tense and the body just bursts forward like an explosion of energy and manliness. The little chuaua demon darts under the coffee table and scrambles towards the nearest corner.

Fifi shrieks, because why would she try to be proactive anyway? Truth be told, I was always the proactive one. #getagripgirlfriend

I go around the table, since I can't jump it with Fifi on it, and charge at the red grotesque cherub. It dives between my legs and hightails it into the kitchen, its tail swishing behind it. I'm aware I should be freaking out more over what I'm seeing, especially since I'm about to catch it and touch it, but it's more important that I get the job done.

The little monster keeps twirling around, and I'm reminded of watching Tom & Jerry as a kid. I've always rooted for the little mouse, like I assumed all kids do, but now I'm stuck being the cat.

I tell you, the cat has the rough deal. Because once you grow up you realize no one wants a mouse in their house, touching and stealing their food. I mean... Ew!

Poor Tom grabbed the short end of the PR stick. And as I struggle to do what he does repeatedly in almost every episode, I decide a blog post on how unfair he's been treated is beyond necessary.

But until then, I have a tiny little demon to catch. Fortunately, Damian has done this before. Or so I believe. There's no other reason he'd anticipate the little bugger's movements correctly. As it tries to go between my legs again, I move my foot and step on its tail.

"Ouch," it wails, but I have no mercy.

I twist like a professional soccer player and kick his little red butt right into the counter. The hit dazes him long enough for me to grab him. Thank God I'm wearing gloves, because even if Damian has a hard stomach, the idea of touching that thing makes me want to screech. Fortunately, I don't, so I stare down the little demon. Unfortunately, my plan stops here. I have no idea what to do with it.

"Lemme go, ya dumb hunter. Lemme go!"

I tighten my hold around it because holy hell, I did not expect it to speak, especially not with a cartoon gangster accent.

"I am most certainly not a dumb hunter," I say affronted.

"Omigod Carolyn. It's talking." Fifi points at me, her hand in tremors. "The little hell puppy is talking."

"I'm no dog, ya dumb broad! Seriously, do I even look like I have four legs?"

I turn it over in my hand. It does not have four legs. I has two fat little feet, a round butt and the front like a Ken doll, which I'm actually grateful for. Seeing demon genitalia isn't high on my must-have experiences list. It actually looks like an evil little boy with pointed years and a tail.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"My name," the creature coos. "Seriously, Bradley, what's wrong with you?"

Riiight. So maybe I've seen this little fellow before. I shake him to shut him up, because it seems like something Damian would do.

"Alright, alright already," it screams and I stop shaking. "It's Butch."

Butch? What a total lack of originality. It must be showing on my face that I find the name appalling because the demon narrows his tiny eyes at me.