Orangy

So there's this neighborhood cat that just kinda walks around the block, chillin'. It's friendly as hell, nice and big and soft, and I'd like to believe the cat belongs to the neighbors next door, as it's always generally clean and not looking like a hobo-cat.

(Sidenote: typin' 'hobo-cat made me think of 'robo-cat', which made me think of this.)

Anyhoo, this orange feline sometimes strolls into our yard, usually when I'm outside stretching before I go on a nice long run (around the block). My roommates and I have taken a liking to the cat, and decided to name him Orangy. Orangy is generally awesome, and it's always a nice treat to get a surprise visit from Orangy. Oh, also, the cat is orange. Not sure if I mentioned that.

The other night, a friend and I were outside in the backyard when we spotted Orangy in the alleyway. It was dark out, so we just saw the cat-like profile, a dark figure of a cat just sitting on the edge of the yard. Assuming it was the one and only beloved Orangy, we both started to call for Orangy, to get Orangy to come closer and hang with us.

"Orangy! Here Orangy!"

I really like saying, "Orangy". Let me make sure you're getting it right... it's like, if you were to bite into an actual orange, what would you say it tastes like? That's right, Orangy. I just wasn't sure if that was how you would spell "Orangy", but that's what I've already gone with, so I guess we're good.

ANYHOO, Orangy starts to approach us as we lure him closer with our cat-calls. Wait, are cat-calls something else? I think so, but I'm just sayin' we were calling the cat to come closer.

ANYHOO, Orangy walks up to us, and I run my hand over Orangy's head, then slowly down his neck. As I am petting him, my hand moves over a huge, hard lump on Orangy's back. "EHH!!!", I immediately pull my hand away.

"WTF, there's like a hard, disgusting lump-like deformity on Orangy's back!!" (I said something like that, I don't remember)

We decide not to pet Orangy anymore, but he still sorta keeps hangin' around us. My friend and I go on talking about something else, ignoring Orangy who is sitting behind us. After a while my friend decides to pay some attention to Orangy again, then notices the hard lumps on Orangy's back.

"Oh gross, you were totally right. I think this cat is like dirty, it's hair is all clumpy and weird. Don't touch it, it might have mites."

I felt a little bit offended that my friend would consider Orangy a "dirty cat", as Orangy has traditionally always been clean and well kept, but it was at that very moment when I looked into Orangy's eyes. Both eyes were surrounded by a dark black goo, and the cat's eyes were burning with pure malice and hatred. I think they were bloodshot even. That cat looked like a zombie. And that zombie cat was piercing my soul with those devilish eyes.

THIS WAS NO FUGGIN' ORANGY.

"THIS IS NO FUGGIN' ORANGY!" I yelled. "Ahhhhh!!!!!" my friend screamed, then immediately started crying and peeing, then ran for the house. The devil cat gave me one last look, then leaped away into the night. I'll never forget the terror I felt upon looking into that cat's eyes. Those eyes were dead. That cat was not from this earth.

After we had calmed down a bit and my friend changed into some drier clothes, we realized what we had been dealing with. "It was a freaky, Pet Cemetery Version of Orangy!" I stammered, heart still pounding intensely.

I have since yet to see Orangy, or the freakishly hideous dead cat that looked like Orangy since it walked into our yard that night. I pray that the real Orangy is alive and healthy, and hasn't been reincarnated as a soul-sucking devil cat from hell.

In other news, Bret Michaels, former Poison singer, star of Rock Of Love with Bret Michaels, and all around celebrity douchebag, is suffering from a brain hemorrhage right now and will most likely die. Probably because of this: