Actually, I don't know if I was the one who actually hit it. There was some confusion. Basically, I decided that I'd be a nice boy and pick up Cassie from her house, as I thought she deserved a lift for being a lovely jolly person. Also, I didn't know the way to Amy's house and frankly couldn't be fucked to look it up on Google Maps. Cassie therefore subsituted for a little fat TomTom with legs. So I arrived at Cassie's street, which is filled to the brim with cars that are inconveniently parked at distances that are JUST SLIGHTLY TOO SMALL to park into. I mean, I tried. I saw a gap and tried to reverse park into it. However, following my driving test in September, I have only been called upon to reverse park once, and thus I couldn't remember how to do it properly and I crashed into the kerb. Some old people drove past and looked at me. At that point I thought 'fuck this' and phoned Cassie to inform her to sort her life out. While I was doing this I drove into a little cul-de-sac to turn around. I wasn't really paying attention in the drive into the cul-de-sac, as a bad song came onto my iPod and I was fiddling with it. However, I was also only going at about 3mph and the road was clear when I entered it so we're not talking A BOY RACER here.
When I reached the end of the cul-de-sac, I turned around and drove back, and there was this cat spazzing out in the middle of the road. At first I thought it was just doing that thing that all cats do, after they've hit the catnip or the crack or something and they just go mental for a few minutes and roll about on the floor waggling their feet in the air. I figured, hey it's a nice day, perhaps it's just enjoying the sunshine. This figuring was stumped when I drove up to the cat and saw that, not only did it not get out of the way, its movements were, to be honest, nuts. It was arching its back and kicking the air and flailing about like there was disco in its soul and fire in its heart and funk in its blood. Unfortunately, this blood-based funk was being liberally splashed all over the road, as its head appeared to be squashed by some car. It was rhomboid. "Oh God" I thought, "This cat is fucked. This is not good." This thought was followed about half a second later by "Wait, that wasn't me that did it was it? I do not need THIS."
I honestly didn't know if it was me or not. I mean, I felt no collision whatsoever, and a forensic examination of the car later proved that there was no blood or gore splashed onto the front of Nora's bumper. Equally, the cat was directly in the centre of the road, and thus I would have passed smoothly over it instead of squashing it with a wheel. However, on the other hand there was nobody else around and surely I would have seen spazzy McGee the cat on my first drive through. It was just confusing. And to be honest, a bit annoying: for if there is one thing that cartoons have taught me, it is that cats are made of rubber; every time Tom gets run over by a car driven by Jerry, he just squishes really flat and then has to use some sort of pump to re-inflate himself. This was clearly not the case in this situation, and makes me wonder what else in the cartoon world is a lie. I mean, can pelicans REALLY be used to mix cement? Do the animals of the serengeti HONESTLY have a huge party led by a wise baboon every time a new baby lion is born? CAN MONKEYS LAUNCH SPACESHIPS? Oh God... I don't know what to believe in any more.
These thoughts flashed through my head in an instant, but were instantly vanquished when the Cat rolled over a bit and looked at me. Our eyes met and for a splitsecond we understood each other perfectly. Its eyes, which, I swear to God, were GLOWING BRIGHT YELLOW, bored directly into my soul. It gave me a concentrated glower of pure undiluted malice that said, quite clearly and succinctly "YOU DID THIS, THOMAS. MY BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS. YOU WILL PAY FOR SLAYING ONE OF THE CATS. WE WILL FOLLOW YOU TO YOUR GRAVE." It was literally the most horribly traumatic thing I have seen for so long. My face was like :-o. The cat was more like ::(:-3, except obviously angrier. And a bit flatter.
For a few brief seconds, time halted. The cat stared at the car. I revved the engine a few times. It was a facedown. The universe held its breath as I tried to decide what to do - to get out and help the cat, or to wuss out and just drive off. Well, to be honest it wasn't much of a contest. I didn't know if I was even the one who had hit the damn thing, which was still flailing miserably about on the road like a fish with cabin fever, and there were a million worst-case-scenarios that could arise from getting out of the car. I could step out and, just as I bent to look at it, a group of young children run crying into the road screaming "TIDDLES! YOU MURDERER!" and it'd look like I was totally guilty. Or the cat could be beyond help and then I'd have to stamp repeatedly on its head to put it out of its misery. Or I could get out and look at it, and then the bleeding shattered wreck could just LEAP horrifyingly from the tarmack and, like, attach itself to my face and just hang on grimly. Or it could have just been a diversion to lure me out of the car; as soon as I got out of the car a load of other cats hiding round the corner would just leap out and jump on me, beat me up and steal my car, my iPod and my lunch money. It just wasn't worth the risk and to be honest I was in no mood for this shit and so I figured, fuck this, and drove over it again. I think passed clearly over its body without touching it. Well I hope so. Oh God, I just had a thought... what if the cat, like, grabbed the bottom of the car and was dragged along, being slowly ground down as I drove along? What if it was only FAKING an injury to get attention, but I then actually ran over its head for real? What if it saw my licence plate, and with its last breath told a passing feline? Oh God.
The fact that I had probably just killed a small animal and had fled its body like a coward put me in the mood for a party and so me and Cassie rolled up to Amy's house bare excited. Well, I wasn't really as I'd only been invited on a whim four hours earlier by Fati, and I didn't even know whose house it was. I thought she was called "Chloe" for the entire evening. I also realised when we arrived that I in fact had been to one of Amy's parties before, and they are unique because they all take place in ONE ROOM OF HER HOUSE. Everyone sits in the attic IN THE DARK and listens to rave music, dancing ironically and getting drunk with their friends. I was up for doing this, except I couldn't drink because I was driving, and I only knew two people. I was also reminded that parties are properly boring when you are single. This one basically featured me sitting on the floor with Cassie and Fati and Roxy and taking hilarious photographs of myself wearing bunny ears. Oh yeah, the theme was 'Bunny Rabbits' for some reason, and so everyone was wearing bunny ears. I of course went one step further and brought a massive full-scale rabbit mask made out of foam rubber that was about twice as big as my own head. I wore this for about twenty seconds and then remembered why I had relegated it into the back of my cupboard; it is literally the most cumbersome uncomfortable thing ever. So I threw it at Fati's head and stole her ears.
Another interesting fact of the party was that everyone had drawn whiskers on their cheeks to imitate rabbits. Of course, they all also looked a bit like cats to me, which was a lovely reminded of the writhing creature that I had left on the road behind me which even now was probably shudderingly crawling towards the house party, inexorably drawn by my scent of guilt and fear. I wanted a drink.
To be honest, as parties went, I wouldn't recommend it. Everyone pretty much left by 11.30 until there were five people sat in the room. In silence. Only person was drunk. It was great. It really reaffirmed my faith in the teen spirit. However, then this jolly fat bloke (not Cassie) showed up and said funny things and I was amused again. You can just imagine the laughs we had. Oh man, I can't even pretend to make this party sound exciting. Well, I say party, I mean 'Sitting in room in dark with camera and rabbit mask on trying to drown my sorrows with Coca-Cola and chocolate'. Sigh. I think that this is as good a time as any to implement something which I hope will become a regular feature of my party reviews, the
Horribly Unimpressive Photographic Summing-Up of the Soirée
Yep. That sums it up.
The party ended on a high note, however; I dropped off Cassie and we went to the cul-de-sac to see if the cat was there. It was gone. However there was still an obvious and huge pool of blood. I figured that the cat was probably found by someone and was taken immediately to cat hospital and is probably right now making a full and frank recovery. Perhaps. Who knows?
This Party Review was Live and Kickin'. Tune in next time!
(Oh God, I just had a thought. What happens if, when I finish typing this blog and I press post, I turn around, and THE CAT IS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY TO MY ROOM? Just glaring at me with those glowing orange eyes.
I'm actually afraid to turn around and check now. What was that creaking noise? Oh God. Ok, I'm turning around to look... now)
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