The Kat Incarnate

        So, you wish to hear my story, huh? Why? Don’t you believe me? Sure, I may reside in a special ward for the clinically insane, but that doesn’t say anything, now does it?  Hell, I shouldn’t even be in here! They said I was crazy because I was having a conversation with myself in the art room.  Well, they’re wrong! I was conversing with the drawings, I say! I don’t usually do it, ya know.  Only if the cartoons need a stern talking to or an event occurred where they needed some hugs.  You ask me why I was talking to them, then? It was because of a single drawing, one that had to be different from the others.  A rebel, you could say.  She refused to allow me to edit the color of her shirt!  I, the artist, told “no” by my creation? How dare they!  The Hello Katty cartoon sat there as still as a stone, not moving a single inch.  She denied me the use of her in any of my stories until I changed her shirt back to pink.  What’s wrong with the color Blue? It was a nice sky blue color, something she should be proud of! Yet she became furious with me, saying girls all of the globe would hunt me down and demand me to reverse my actions.  I dared her to go on strike – after all, she has a family, and where else could she work? If she wishes to feed her young boy, Hello Ferret, she needs income – and I’m not giving it to her for free!
          I thought I had her with the family bit, but what surprised me was that another drawing appeared and persuaded her to stay strong.  Damn that Nora! Always butting into other peoples’ business.  So what if a baby bird is lost and can’t find his way to the nest? He has to grow up sooner or later!  With this denial I became so angry that I couldn’t stand looking at her anymore.  Picking up the drawing book, I slammed it into the drawer and rested on the cot – if I couldn’t deal with it today, leave it tomorrow, I always say. 
      Yet even in my dreams the infernal beast wouldn’t leave me alone!  I soon grew tired of it’s bantering, and so decided to take it on a little walk… to the nearest incinerator!  Ignoring her cries and her yelps of protest, I made my way past the police station, all the while telling the Kat she deserved it.  I was only two feet away when I felt a tug on my shoulder.  Turning around, I saw a police officer, who proceeded to ask me what I was doing out so late.  Describing the situation to him, I found myself in handcuffs and the drawing book returned to the studio.  Curse that lucky Kat!  If not for the authorities it’d just be more dust in the wind.  But instead, it has hundreds of products lined up (For which I should get the money, by the way) and I’m in here, having to deal with these crack pots every day!


Word count = 525