{{AN|This is a pasta that I wrote quite a long time ago, back when I had no idea how to write. I abandoned it after a scathing review on the writer's workshop, leaving it to fester there, waiting for the day when it could finally see the light. I came across it once again, and with my additional knowledge of the trollpasta wiki, I decided to give it new life here.}}
I have always been a squeamish person. I just can’t deal with bloody movies, I don’t like watching contortionists squeeze themselves into tight boxes, and I am afraid of vomit. My friends, on the other hand, love violent horror movies. It seems like they are slightly obsessed with it, and try and make me watch the movies with them. Misty, My cat, also seems to love watching the horror flicks. Although she can usually be found curled up in my bed, when my friends are over to watch a horror flick with me (I have the best TV out of all of us) my cat is always found either sitting on my lap, staring at the screen intently, especially for the bloody parts.
Misty has also had a taste for the hunt. Birds, rats, and the occasional bat. She will usually only take things that are already dead. She likes to hunt things far out of reach mostly, and will sometimes try to attack large dogs or other large animals. She doesn’t kill often.
One day, about a few weeks after she made one of those rare kills, I think it was a bat, I noticed she was starting to act a little different. A little bit more aggressive. And on that day, she bit me. Now this was not normal. Misty never bit anybody, other than those times when she was a kitten. A small kitten will bite and scratch at will, but once a cat gets to know you, if you’ve been kind, it will love you, but if not...
You’d better run for cover when the pup
grows
up
Come to think of it,
My friends have never been nice to Misty. She’s never been very underfoot or anything, but, when they try to put down their beer, and Misty is just sitting on the floor, or the side-table next to the couch, they shoo her and tell her to scat or go away. They never seemed to like her. Now, one of my friends is allergic, so I guess that justifies their dislike, but even though, he never has a reaction unless he LITERALLY eats cat hair. And, as I am thinking about this, I realize that Misty never seemed to like my friends either. In fact, Misty seemed to resent them. She would bite my friends, as well, even when she knew them well. Now that I think about it, she began to resent them more as she got to know them.
grows
up
Misty began to meow at me, as if to try to communicate. She has never done this before, except when she is hungry. I checked her food. It was full. She wasn’t hungry. Why was she doing this? Why, Misty, Why? I can’t understand. Her meowing is confusing. Then, it came to me. She must have been thirsty. Yes. That was it. I walked over to her bowl, next to her food, and found it to be
Full. She wasn’t crying at me for food, so what was it? I couldn’t find the meaning to her pestering me, so I decided to pet her, and just give her a little attention. Then it hit me. It was crazy, but what if she was… no. It can’t be.
You’d better run
Misty was trying to communicate. She was trying to tell me something in a way I could understand. I could understand it now, though. She was in pain. She was hurting and crying at me. I couldn’t understand it, though. She wanted me to know she was in pain, and she needed it to stop. She wanted it to stop. She was crying at me. She was crying for it to be over. Don’t worry, misty. I’ll stop the pain. I can help you.
This may be one of the last rational things I will write.
I noticed something. Something awful. Ever. Misty was becoming aggressive towards me. And not just, me, my friends, as well. She has been scratching and clawing at most things that move. She clawed my friends, as they had come over to watch another movie with me. Now, normally, I would dismiss this as my friend trying to shoo her away, and getting clawed because of it, but with her aggressive behaviour, this might be because of something else.
Run for cover
Misty told me something today. She told me that my friends were the cause of her pain. She told me that when they shooed her, it hurt. She told me that they kicked her when she was lying down where they were walking. She told me they hurt her. They hit her, and hurt her. She hated them. They pained her, and she told me I needed to take revenge for her. The will be sorry that they hurt my cat.
Misty has started foaming at the mouth. My friends have caused her pain. My friends have caused her to foam at the mouth. My friends gave her rabies. Or did they? Could it have been the bat she brought in? could she have gotten rabies from that? That could explain why she was foaming at the mouth. And if she bit me, could I not be going crazy from the rabies? Rabies attacks the brain…
My cat is at fault, but so are my friends. If it weren’t for them, Misty wouldn’t be in pain, and I wouldn’t need to kill her to save her from greater pain. And if she weren’t in pain, She wouldn’t have bit me as an outcry. My friends have made me crazy. My friends have made me crazy. they deserve what’s coming. they will get their just desserts.
You’d better run for cover when the pup
grows
up
I killed Misty. She caused all of this. It was her fault. She was the one that bit me. but, of course, that was a cry for help. That is why my friends caused this.
The trap worked. It worked perfectly. My friend received his punishment and he received what was coming. I have avenged Misty and myself. Revenge is sweet. Oh, and,
He was delicious.