A/N: This was my first attempt at REAL humor, as my English teacher would tell us. This includes satire, the two types of "humor", and puns. (If you are unfamiliar with what "satire" means, then I suggest looking it up, or you'll probably miss the meaning of my entire paragraph of satire) I thought it turned out quite nicely. Hope this entire fic makes you at least smile!

The Cat is Dead, Enough Said

When I was little, my mother always told me to stay away from evil and bad things. I took those words to heart as I grew up and used my parent's money to buy myself all the material things my heart desired. I learned that money made me happy! I used gossip to help my friends weed out the worthy men from the unworthy boys. I once stole over $100 from the Church treasury to give to my best friend when she was in dire need of a new I-pod. I created the most convincing lie to cover up for my kleptomaniac friend when she stole something from a ridiculously over-priced jewelry store. I punished my ex-boyfriend when he broke up with me for Flower Pierce by flattening the tires on his expensive car and by hiring a professional hair stylist to shave his head the next time he went to get his beautiful hair cut. I never got into fights; I hired other people to beat up anyone who crossed me. And, my most proud achievement, I decided only to sneak out of the house every other weekend to make grand appearances at parties and elite social gatherings.

The only unhappy part of my life was the fact that my parents did not see the light in all of the good things I had done. I had pursued happiness, been generous, and carried out justice, but my parents still were not proud of me. I was nearly in tears the day they told me that I was not very responsible.

And do you know what they did to me? Do you know what unspeakable horror they unleashed upon me to "teach" me responsibility? They gave me a fuzzy, female kitten with the clichéd name of…Fido.

The beautiful package arrived at my unsuspecting doorstep on a pleasantly warm Friday evening. The package was sparkly with promise and had extravagant ribbons tied around it.

I thought I was getting an early birthday present. Imagine how high-pitched I shrieked when I hurriedly opened the present and a fluffy furball came flying at my precious face. I stepped back as fast as possible, ungracefully tripped on a pillow, and landed with a dull THUD on my pristine carpet. I kind of randomly wondered if this was supposed to be the way to make me "responsible."

I heard a tiny motor rumbling and glanced to my left. Any normal onlooker would have looked at the gray ball of fluff purring away and melted on the spot at the sight of it. Kittens are cute and adorable, right?

Well, I say you are wrong! I knew from the way the kitten was glaring me with such sadistic, evil intent that I was going to be in big trouble.

Fido suddenly twitched and then ran toward my windows. To my surprised horror, she attacked my finest curtains with a vengeance not seen since the days of Eris, the Greek goddess of discord. Fido clawed her way to the top of the innocent tapestries. She must have gotten stuck, because she dangled for a few seconds and then began to mew pathetically.

I guess my first mistake was feeling any twinge of pity for the incognito beast, but they do say the greatest wisdom is learned through the more forceful of slaps in the face.

I ran into my kitchen, retrieved a chair, and hurried back out to my living room. I was going to set my chair down and retrieve the kitten, but Fido was no longer hanging like a loose leaf on a branch. I felt cold dread pool beneath my skin, and I looked around frantically. I spotted Fido on top of my cabinet weaving dangerously in between my finest china.

"Oh! No, Fido!" I squeaked. "Bad kitty!!"

I moved the chair beside the china cabinet and stood on it. My head just passed over the top. I reached toward Fido and said with caution, "Here kitty, kitty. Be a good girl now and do not break my china."

Fido slinked toward me and sniffed my outstretched fingers. She was just out of reach, so I waited patiently. She must have smelled something she liked, because she suddenly licked my index finger with her rough tongue. I instantly jerked my hand away, surprised, and my elbow knocked into my china, causing it to fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces.

"My…expensive plates…" I whispered.

Fido was purring contentedly.

I glared at the kitten and quickly reached for her again, but she was too fast and avoided my hand easily. She jumped to the ground and zoomed into the kitchen. I carefully sidestepped the broken porcelain and ran to my personal house phone to call a maid.

"Clean up the broken plates in my room and bring me all the things a kitten would need!" I demanded.

I hung up and ran into the kitchen.

Fido was sitting near the knives on the counter. She was purring again. I kept my eyes on her at all times as I stepped toward her. She sat and stared at me with big, innocent eyes, but I was not fooled. I reached for her, and she clawed at me playfully. This went on for several minutes before I became so frustrated that I turned on the sink and threw water at her.

Fido hissed and jumped between the knives.

I got a large cup of water, walked threateningly toward the kitten, and held the cup in sight for good measure.

I pointed to the floor and said, "Get down. If you do not, I will soak you!"

Fido bared her tiny fangs, but she listened. She jumped down to the kitchen floor and began to lick her fur with a nonchalant air about her.

I delicately picked her up with my free hand, and she let me without complaint. I crossed into the living room and set her on the couch and waited for the maids to come with my supplies. Fido curled up in a tight ball but stared at me with dangerous eyes. I had won this round they seemed to say, but that would not last for very long….

A week later, I was reduced to twitching at every little noise. Yes, I had won that first battle, but no others. No matter what I would do, Fido would retaliate worse.

When I did not clean her litter box immediately after she did her business, another little "present" was left for me beside my pillow. If I did not brush her majesty's fur for at least an hour a day, I got a hairball in my brand new shoes. If the little terror did not get spring water from a bottle or the best cat food on a gold plate, she would unplug all the cords in the house, including the ones from my TV, computer, and cell phone. And possibly the most terrible one of all was if I did not respond to her first little mew in the morning, she would scratch and obliterate my pillows, curtains, furniture, and carpet.

I could not even pay attention to all the gossip at school because every time I tried to listen to my friends' endless prattle, I would think I had just seen Fido out of the corner of my eye. I felt watched and stalked wherever I was. I even screamed when one of my friends imitated a cat's "meow." It was quite the catty of her.

My friends noticed the change in me, and I am pretty sure all of them would walk away from me wondering just how many Fruit Loops I had eaten for breakfast.

To put it simply, I was a mess. The small, gray kitten was a little terror, and, because she was ruining my social life and mental stability, she needed to go to a far, far away kingdom—preferably the one with a permanent sauna.

I went home and did all the normal, routine pampering that Fido required. I later walked into the kitchen and started to chop some vegetables into little pieces to eat. I looked at the sharp knife in my hand and idly thought about plunging it through a certain animal, but I felt Fido's stare on the back of my neck, so I hastily resumed chopping.

Another thought occurred to me about an hour later as I was watching a TV show about mice and rats. I had never before done my own dirty work, so why start now?

I quickly got up and picked up my house phone. Fido was curled up on the couch and did not bother to get up as she watched me. I dialed the number for Information, and I asked the director for the number of a really good pest control. I quickly dialed the number I was given.

"Hello!" a singsong voice said pleasantly, "HOYI Bug Killers at your service!"

"HOYI?" I asked.

I had momentarily forgotten my reason for calling.

"It means 'Happy-to-Obliterate-Your-Insects,' Miss," the female voice replied.

"Oh…all right then," I said.

I did not exactly need that kind of pest control, but it did not matter. So long as they got their job done in the way I wanted, I was not going to complain.

I glanced at Fido and smirked.

"Well," I began sweetly, "I have this big pest problem that needs to be taken care of immediately, and so, if you could send someone over right now, I would really appreciate it. Honestly, my problem cannot wait. Oh, and do not worry about the extra expenses for the inconvenience, you will be given a special thanks for all the trouble."

I told the woman my family's name.

I could just see the look of the woman on the receiving end of the phone. I heard muffled voices—she was probably talking to her boss—and then the lady resumed talking with new gusto.

"We are most certainly happy to be of service to you, Miss! We will send someone over right away."

And Fido continued to watch me ominously.

About an hour after my phone call, a HOYI Bug Killers employee came, and I showed him the hole under my grand porch. Earlier, I had chased Fido underneath it and then placed a huge rock right in front of the hole. There was no way she could have gotten out from under the porch.

The employee didn't dare comment on how new the hole looked.

I went inside and let the man do his business. I slipped him a few thousands to make sure that he asked no questions and only sprayed whatever chemicals bug killers spray. I also ordered him not to let anything come out of that hole, or his family would suffer greatly.

I waited on my couch excitedly for a short while, though it seemed like hours to me. Finally, the HOYI Bug Killers employee walked into my house and announced that he had sprayed the place thoroughly, sealed up the hole, and, most importantly, had let nothing escape out of the gaping hole.

I mentally jumped for joy, but, outwardly, I was smirking in triumph.

The cat is dead, enough said!

I profusely thanked the employee and gave him a few more thousands while I wired his company the money I promised.

Just as the employee drove off in his company's big van, my mother pulled up.

She got out of her new and expensive car and gave me a strange look.

"What was that person doing here, Hunny? I was not aware that we had a bug problem."

I told my mother, "We did not. Well, not for bugs, anyway. I needed to destroy that kitten. That she-terror was driving me utterly bonkers."

I was always brutally honest with my mother.

My mother laughed pleasantly.

"Good for you, Love!"

I was surprised. My parents had probably spent a fortune on that kitten. I tilted my head to the side and gave her a questioning stare.

My mother smiled secretly.

"I never did like that kitten's mother. She was a real sour puss."

"Oh," I blinked. "Okay."

My mother took my arm and led me inside. We chatted for hours before she left. It was dark outside. I stretched and got ready for bed. I smiled joyously.

I had never before felt so free.

I jumped onto my bed, narrowly missing a bump in the covers. I sighed and tucked my legs underneath the comfy silk.

I screamed as my foot touched something soft and furry.

I immediately jerked my foot away from the offending something that was under my covers, and I hastily jumped onto my carpeted floor.

I retracted the covers slowly. My hands were shaking. I stopped before I uncovered what was causing the bump and took a deep breath.

I quickly threw the covers back and screamed in horror.

Life was just not fair.