You are what you eat

I love cats, I love cats with a burning passion, my fursona is a cat person. Without cats, life is devoid of meaning. You know... the Egyptians worshipped cats. I think I was born in the era. I wouldn’t mind being vored by a cat. My name was Andros Phuqerali and this was my story. #CatsToo

I was around 17 years old, and I was sitting in my gaming chair, playing candy crush on the big screen when suddenly my cat, Sugarfeet, started to brush its soft, warm head against my own. I appreciated its gentle touch on my semi-deformed skull. My soft spot never hardened so my mom always says that it’s extremely important that I protect my delicate head.

She says is so that my gorgeous brain doesn’t get hurt, and that the world would be sad to lose such a brilliant brain; so yes, I was homeschooled, but so what? I was homeschooled and I still did all the things that normal kids do. Things like watch the Princess Bride with Sugarfeet, play Dino Hunters on my 3DS with Sugarfeet, watch anime with Sugarfeet, and make the occasional fan fiction of Sugarfeet and I. Sometimes, if I was feeling adventurous, I would make Chuck E Cheese as the main antagonist and it would usually end with us eating him and running his franchise. Sometimes Jerry from Tom and Jerry would pop up but we’d keep him as a pet that we would torture on occasion. Those were the good ol’ days, but soon everything changed.

I lived in a gated community with a lot of other kids my age, so we were expected to be pretty chummy with our neighbors. Fortunately, I was an introvert and I didn’t like socializing with people since socializing is dangerous (at least my mom said so). This blessing however, came with a curse. I was so introverted that after a while the other kids started to make fun of me… they called me names like dent-head, soft spot, and play-doh brain. They would egg and t-p my house, poop in the lawn, and once they even set our mailbox on fire.

I wasn’t bothered by them though, I knew that they were just insecure about their own shortcomings and I was an easy target for them to focus all their built up frustration on. This “abuse”, as my mom called it, went on for a while and I had learned to live with it. But then, they took it too far. You see, I not only lived in a community full of jerks but I lived in a community of something far worse… dog lovers. They had no sense of right or wrong, they only believed that dogs were superior to cats. These excuses of human beings do not belong on the planet earth, they do not deserve to breath the same air as cats do. They could take their dogs and go auto asphyxiate themselves for all I care. If I had the chance I would start a genocide that only targeted people who love dogs more than cats. Sorry for the rant, anyways, those degenerates did something so horrible to Sugarfeet that my life was never the same.

It was a crisp autumn morning, I had just finished my brain builders and I wanted to snuggle with Sugarfeet. I started calling for her but I got no response. I started to get worried, she never left me and she always came when I called for her. I ran around the house shouting her name, I ran upstairs, downstairs, in the backyard, anywhere I could think of. Then I ran out the front door and I saw her. She had been nailed by her tail onto the tree in front of our house, she was dead. The shock of seeing the love of my life nailed on a tree was too much for me, I fainted. When I woke up sometime later it was dark out and I started to sob. Why had they done that to her? I have never done anything to them or their dogs, and yet they made me suffer a pain that was so great I craved the sweet release that only death could bring. But it wasn’t my time to leave. In that moment, between sobs and loss of my will to carry on, I made a decision. Everyone would pay for what they did.

Signed by * *