Dedicated to Espantalho for her inspiring story: Short Tales of Unimportant People. I do so suggest you all reading it. .

FLUFFBALL’S DEMISE

Fluffball wasn’t my kitty… he was my neighbors. But I was going to kill him so he probably wouldn’t be anyone’s kitty soon. Fluffball hadn’t really done anything to me at all, he was just… there and easy to get. Sorta.

I almost changed my mind, sitting in the little cut out of our house outside with the gray animal in my lap, petting its purring body as it snuggled into my legs and mewed. The breezes ruffled through its soft fur occasionally, fluffing it up for me to smooth back down. It was just a kitty, maybe a year old and still with that baby cuteness. We were a lot alike in that respect. I was only twelve, still considered cute and not old enough to do a lot of things, but that’s where the similarities ended.

See, the kitty trusted me, trusted everyone, and was happy with just a little scratch behind the ear or a pat on the head. It didn’t worry about anything. People loved the kitty, this Fluffball, and fed it and paid attention to it. This kitty was one lucky kitty. Like I said, the similarities ended with our maturity. Maybe that’s why Fluffball had to die. Maybe that’s why I’ve got to kill him.

So while the little kitty was licking my fingers with his little kitty tongue, I slid the string around its neck and smiled. It mewed at me again and I mewed back, then him again, then me. So I slipped him off my lap while we talked, winding the string around the pipe on the house and gently pulling until the kitty’s little mews turned frightened as his little kitty paws lifted from the ground and clawed uselessly into the air. I thought for a second to let him scratch me, but only continued to pull the string tighter. Soon he was standing up on his back legs, thin noose cutting into his chin as he bent his little kitty head forward.

“Poor Fluffball. You are a stupid kitty,” I mumbled, lifting him off the ground and tying the string. By the time mom gets home, Fluffball won’t be struggling anymore and I’ll be inside watching cartoons with my easy-mac that I made for dinner and she will yell and hit me and threaten to kill me for being such a naught boy and lock me in a closet to sleep with my old clothes that haven’t been washed in a year.

So when I’m sent to go get the kitty and bring it back to it’s home in a box, I do so happily. Because even though Fluffball had a good life, I didn’t and I saved it from ever experiencing something like it.

As for future stories, not all of them are going to be about kittens or people dying. Most are going to be about emotions or something. The next one is 'Integrity Fails', so obviously you see where I'm going with this.