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Creative Writing |
My Cat is a Gangster
by Michael Rhodes
My cat is a gangster
Midmorning I type into the computer
The house cat, Wynonna, wants playtime.
She tells me as much
Not through mewing
or rubbing my ankles
She tells me by hopping on a nearby footstool
and rests her front paw on my knee.
Slowly, deliberately so, her claws sink past the pants material
I feel the pinpricks of sharp claws.
I look at Wynonna.
She looks back with eyes that say,
“Nice knee you have. Shame if anything should happen to it.”
I play the ransom.
Midmorning I type into the computer
The house cat, Wynonna, wants playtime.
She tells me as much
Not through mewing
or rubbing my ankles
She tells me by hopping on a nearby footstool
and rests her front paw on my knee.
Slowly, deliberately so, her claws sink past the pants material
I feel the pinpricks of sharp claws.
I look at Wynonna.
She looks back with eyes that say,
“Nice knee you have. Shame if anything should happen to it.”
I play the ransom.
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