Blast!

The madness of the cats began. They came from Ulthar and Singaloon, in my dreams, and from cellars and old steeples by day. By Day! I saw the twitching tails snake madly, as yellow eyes glared hungry and I feared for my flesh. You think I am mad. But you haven’t seen the horde of furred demons crouching in the shadows of chairs, squirming out of closets, heard them yowling in the old barns. “They’re after me,” I cried to my wife, but she only purred. “I need a sedative, anything to help me sleep," I told my doctor, but he only offered me a saucer of warm milk. I called the police, and they just suggested the Animal Rescue. I told them what I was going to do instead, and slammed down the phone. My wife mewed insincerely, till the rat poison finished her. My next-door neighbor asked too many questions, till I distracted him with cat-nip, so that he didn’t see my knife. Now the police are outside, they want my rifle, and think because I am only a mouse who cannot climb trees, that I won’t fight. Let them come in. The buckshot will make their fur fly!