enforcer

Nebuchadnezzar, Mrs. Tiedeman's Siamese cat, leaped at me right as I was passing her coffee table. My baseball bat was already in my hand, and I timed the swing beautifully. Cat and bat connected with a gratifying thud; Nebuchadnezzar whizzed across the living room and smashed head-first into a large, wall-mounted mirror, shattering it. The cat slid down the wall, flopped among the mirror's broken remains, farted out his intestines, and lay still.

Mrs. Tiedeman's other Siamese, Fuckstick, ran into the room to see what was going on. Fuckstick saw the body of his brother, yowled in fury, and leaped for my scrotum. I heaved the coffee table onto its side, spilling books and newspapers onto the floor. Fuckstick smashed into the table with enough force to knock me down; I scrambled backward to give myself room for a mighty swing of my bat. When the cat made his next leap, I swung and caught him across the head. The noise of the cat's skull being crushed was indescribably tomato-y, and the sight of the cat's body cartwheeling through the air, spewing ropes of blood from his head and his ass, was dazzling.

Mrs. Tiedeman herself finally made an appearance, drawn downstairs by this 2AM commotion in her palatial flat. She saw me in her living room, ragged and bloody, panting with exhaustion and flushed with glee. She uttered a high, piercing scream that made my balls vibrate. The scream went on and on, scaling upward until it was ultrasonic before she ran out of breath.

"What are you doing here?" she finally cried. "What have you done to Nebuchadnezzar and Fuckstick?"

"Apartment rules, ma'am," I said. "No pets. Period." My eyes flicked to a dark corner when I heard the sudden chirruping of a budgie in a cage. I yanked my shotgun out of its back-mounted holster as Mrs. Tiedeman began screaming again...


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