The stray cat needs a name.
He doesn’t’ care about that, I’m sure.
The weather? No problem.
Wet food or dry? Whatever.
A bath? Don’t even think about it, sucker!
So, I’ll call him Appy.
Short for “Apathy”.
The challenge is to write a story in 6 minutes using the photo below as the prompt.
My people called me “Fluffy”. But you can call me “Maximus”.
That’s what my homies called me.
Yep, I was all THAT after dark with the ‘ladies’ too.
I lapped saucers of milk (that gave me gas), squeezed into tissue boxes, sprawled on keyboards, but mostly lazed on windowsills during the day… every day, until last Spring.
It was then my people decided to renovate the cellar, but they conveniently forgot to barricade the crawlspace under the front porch, so it was then I found my avenue to FREEDOM.
Tipping garbage cans and yowling at the moon made me feel alive!
Then I saw her. The prettiest little calico on Earth!
Matty was her name and lovin’ was her game. M-E-O-W!
Now it’s over. My 9th life left me after an ill-timed leap showing off for my Matty at the dump.
My only regret is all these darn steps on this stairway to heaven!
I wonder if they’ll have windowsills up there. I could use a rest.