Sometimes it pays off to have a chat with one's dinner. Yes, it sure does, especially if you're a cat about to set your teeth into a poisoned mouse. This time it was Greg the mouse about to be eaten by Beauty, the cat. At the exact moment her teeth were lowered and were just about to dig into Greg he said:
"Eh', excuse me, but that's not good for you, Madam Cat."
Never before had Beauty's dinner talked to her except by excessive cursings or prayers for mercy so she was very, very surprised when this happened. Also by the polite tone in this small, but tasty treat. She looked at him in amazement when he once more spoke:
"Yes, I'm dangerous to eat because I had the misfortune to eat some rat poison the other day."
"Rat poison?" Beauty exclaimed. "Had you eaten rat poison you would have been dead by now."
"I don't feel all too well so I'm sure to die soon, maybe in a few minutes. However, I shall still be a lethal meal, even for you, Madam Cat."
"What nonsense is this?" Beauty exclaimed, "It can't have been rat poison ..."
"All the others died," Greg said, wiping his eyes with his tail. "Oh, so very sad, you would not want to experience anything like that. Especially not when you have such bright and pretty young ones to look after ..."
"What do you know about my children? How did you know that they are pretty and bright?"
"I'm sure they take after you, Madam Cat," Greg said with a sneaky look on his face.
Like all cats Beauty always succumbed very easily to flattery. If somebody told her that she was pretty she looooved that individual. Still, the sly expression on the small mousy face made her distrust him. - He is a master of flattery, she thought to herself, and I bet he is a liar too.
"You, sir, lie," she said, looking at him with a stern glance, "you don't want to be eaten and that's the truth." Having said this she - oh horror of horrors - ate him, tail, ears, whiskers and the rest in one gulp. After having done this she at once started to feel a little worried because didn't her stomach behave in a strange way? Maybe he had been right so that now she was poisened? She lied down feeling a bit nauseated. Yes, she felt so worried and insecure of herself and her own judgment that she didn't hear the not all that soft patterings of paws behind her until she felt the teeth of the Jones-family's dog, Tarzan, in her neck.
"Help!" she screamt, but nobody came to her rescue. Instead Tarzan began to laugh.
"You stupid and ugly cat, you homeless bag of fleas, that's for lying down and not being alert to dogs."
"I had to lie down," she yelled, "I'm sick!"
"Sick? Ha! I don't believe you."
"I've eaten Greg the Mouse even though he was contaminated by rat poison."
"Oh, my God!" Tarzan exclaimed. "That's awful." He let go of her neck, but pinned her down with one of his large paws.
"Yeeees," she whined, "and I feel so sick. Everything is getting black right before my eyes and I'm dizzy ..."
"Not good, no, not good, especially as you're a mother of young ones. Maybe I better snap your neck to bring you out of your misery ...."
"What?!!! No, no, and besides, that would contaminate your teeth - it may already have happened - so that you too die."
"Hmmmm," he said, "you may have a point there, but I never bit you to bleed so I'm all right."
"Do you mind removing your paw from my back, it makes me even more nausated to be pinned down like that?"
"If I did you would run and that wouldn't be right to either you or the little ones now that I know you're poisonous. Your milk would kill them and you would suffer a most awful death so I really shall have to snap your neck ..."
"Help! Help!" Beauty wailed and this time someone came running. It turned out to be the owner of Tarzan who grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off her.
"Oh no, you poor, homeless thing," he said letting go of Tarzan and lifting Beauty up into his protective arms. Tarzan was very upset at this development in the drama, especially as he soon afterwards could see Beauty and her boisterous brood sitting in HIS sitting-room with HIS human being and eating HIS food while she was being petted by everyone in HIS house. She looked fit as a fiddle and whenever anybody mentioned Greg to her in the days to come she said, full of disgust:
"Such a liar! He hadn't eaten poison at all, only wanted to scare me. I'm glad I ate him."
As to Tarzan then he was beyond himself with regret that he hadn't eaten the damn cat, the criminal, lying mothball, who took over HIS family, HIS house and HIS favorite sleeping place: The lap of his beloved Master.
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Originally Posted On Site: 2010-03-02 01:52:59
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