Here's the deal -- every week a different contributor is going to give you a writing prompt. Something to get the words flowing, get you thinking, and help hone your writing skills. Then, link your post in the comments over on Paper Hangover, and we'll jump around and comment.
It's meant to be fun. You can take the prompt seriously, or have a little fun with it. You're choice. This week:
In 300 words or less, tell us a story beginning with, "That darn cat..."
Mine: Kitty War
That darn cat was worst thing that ever happened to me. First, the little shit attacked me. Kitty left a nice scar on the inside of my wrist from that attempted assassination. Then, as if that wasn't enough, Kitty filled my house with fleas.
Guess he figured slicing me open wouldn't work, so he'd let the blood suckers finish me off.
How wrong Kitty was. I dominated the fleas with my little insecticide bombs. And a flea bath. Oh yeah, it gave me a little thrill to see Kitty dripping with soap.
Kitty sat in the bay window for while, twitching his tail and watching me as I tapped away at my keyboard. I should have known the little beast was plotting against me, even as I scratched his head and fed him the expensive canned food he demanded. Little demon.
I woke up one morning and stumbled to my computer chair, coffee in hand, prepared for a long day full of work. I reached down to press the power button on the tower of my machine and my hand brushed something furry.
Kitty. He was perched atop the computer like a King in his throne, his tail dipping down and back up in a way that said, "I'm causing serious trouble."
"What are you doing there?" I asked him.
His eyes slid half-way closed and he glared at me.
Something was up, and I knew it wasn't going to be good. I pressed the button.
I pressed the button again.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a long breath. When I reached down and pulled the tower from under my desk, my heart stilled in my chest. Every single wire on the back of the tower had been chewed in two.
Kitty had dealt the death-blow.