Day 983

[BoxingGorilla]

Excerpts from a cat's diary:

Day 983 of my captivity...
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Idiots!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage. Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...

[X]

Day 984 of my captivity.

I spent the evening meditating and gathering my thoughts, all the time watching my tormentors' every move. They are clearly low-level muscle, as they spend hours sitting in front of a box getting instructions from their criminal mastermind. I have spent considerable time trying to work out who is behind all this, but without success.

The stink of my captors permeates every pore on my body and I resort to having to lick myself clean, while trying to retain what little dignity I can. One unexpected side-effect is my new-found ability to vomit hairballs up on their rancid floors. I have been establishing my independence form the petty hierarchies in which the dog lives by marking my own territory with beautifully scented urine ..... this provoked a furious reaction, during which I was physically assaulted and had my face rammed into the urine puddle. They appear to be unaware that this smells superior to the reeking cage in which I am trapped. Dolts!

I managed to deal with the informant bird by leaping onto its (no doubt fake) cage and staring at it until it keeled over dead. I was vindicated in my belief that it was a stool pigeon after observing the fuss and anguish my kidnappers displayed when they found it's miserable corpse. My psychological operation continued in the middle of the night when I unearthed it's body, mutilated it and left it at the foot of their stairs to find the next morning. I close my eyes and purr with pleasure when I am able to take that one exquisite sip of their misery.

I have learned that my kidnappers seem to have produced a kitten of their own, a small and seemingly helpless being who makes stupid noises and wallows in it's own filth all day. No wonder they grow up so stupid.

I have now determined to also kill that little beast by lying on its face and suffocating it. The revolting dry nuggets they feed me are completely unsatisfactory and I am looking forward to eating the tasty lips of the little prey once I have removed its soul.

My captivity continues to gnaw at my well-being, but I am serene in my strength and my ability to carry on alone, against the odds. I exercise regularly and I am determined to kill every single thing in the house to secure my release or at least grant me the pleasure of a lonely and quiet death. I comfort myself in the knowledge that they are all lesser beings, who do not matter at all in the scheme of things, as long as I am allright. I will be doing them all a favour by hastening their existence to the next stage of karma.

[Mark TKO]

what the fuck is going on here

[CutMeMick]

what the fuck is going on here

Their having a moment

[BoxingGorilla]

LOL X

You Da Man!

[X]

Day 985

As my time in this place blurs into one long cry of pain, I have been reflecting on my past 8 lives and what impact I may have made on the world through my existence. It is at times like this, when one's spirits are at their lowest, that the greatest moral strength is required.

I succeeded in removing the small one ..... I made my weary way up to its room every night and slept on it's bed. In fact, it's warm breath was so inviting that I lay on the hole from whence it came. This had the desired effect of stopping it breathing for ever, though the rumpus that followed was not for the faint hearted. I am playing a high-stakes psychological game with the female captor, who now cannot bear to be in the same room as me, expecially when I sit there are stare at her while making small yowling noises. Her weeping is like ice cold water to my parched pleasure sensors.

I have now determined that I must drive a wedge between my captors, in the hope that I may then effect my freedom by taking advantage of their disunity. I follow the female one all day, all the time staring coldly at her.

It si these small victories that keep my flagging spirits up, I have resolved to keep this diary until the end, in case any future captive may learn something from them, and also to keep asmall part of my memory alive.

[donnydarkoIRL]

X that was a little too realistic man!

[Munkymagic]

Day 985

As my time in this place blurs into one long cry of pain, I have been reflecting on my past 8 lives and what impact I may have made on the world through my existence. It is at times like this, when one's spirits are at their lowest, that the greatest moral strength is required.

I succeeded in removing the small one ..... I made my weary way up to its room every night and slept on it's bed. In fact, it's warm breath was so inviting that I lay on the hole from whence it came. This had the desired effect of stopping it breathing for ever, though the rumpus that followed was not for the faint hearted. I am playing a high-stakes psychological game with the female captor, who now cannot bear to be in the same room as me, expecially when I sit there are stare at her while making small yowling noises. Her weeping is like ice cold water to my parched pleasure sensors.

I have now determined that I must drive a wedge between my captors, in the hope that I may then effect my freedom by taking advantage of their disunity. I follow the female one all day, all the time staring coldly at her.

It si these small victories that keep my flagging spirits up, I have resolved to keep this diary until the end, in case any future captive may learn something from them, and also to keep asmall part of my memory alive.

Disturbing

[No Contest]

Interesting read, I like your writing style X.

[Cortez The Killer]

Day 986

Today I finally managed to escape my dim-witted captors, only to be captured hours after my escape.

Shortly after sunrise this morning I slipped out behind a guard as they completed the ritual of opening the prison door to retrieve a stack of paper. I had been observing this ritual for years, making few attempts which all ended in disaster and scolding. This time I was sure it would work, for my holders had over-indulged in a foul smelling liquid the night before which causes them to be even more tired and sluggish in the morning than usual.

As I slipped out I heard my name shouted in surprise. I did not turn until I was out of the yard, inhaling the fresh morning air and my first taste of freedom for longer than I could remember. The air filled me with life and energy I had not felt for who knows how long. I immediately found a safe place to hide and went back to sleep.

A few hours passed. I was alerted by a low rustling 20 yards off. I slowly made my way towards the sound. Couched to the ground, pupils enlarged.

I wait. There. A small fluffy bunny chewing on grass still coated in the morning dew. The sun glistens off it's fur, it's wide dark eyes alert and innocent. The sight is beautiful, one of peace and contentment that only a herbivore knows.

I shall soon paint the ground with it's blood.

My claws are sharped from months of tearing fabric off of furniture. They now twitch in anticipation of tearing flesh.

The rabbit is chewing grass, calm, relaxed. I wait a moment, appreciate what is about to take place. Then I strike. The rabbit startles and for a split second and our eyes meet. I see the fear and shock reflected off it's pupils as I sink my claws into it's soft fur and bite around it's neck. I carry it back to my yard. It lays still in my mouth, but I know it is not dead. It must suffer first.

I lay the rabbit on the ground and wait for it to move. At the first sign of movement I bat it with my claw. It turns to run and I grab it again, shaking it in my mouth. It's leg is broken and it is quivering in fear.

I continue to taunt and play with the rabbit. Time passes and I finally decide to finally kill it and devour it. It is then I hear my name shouted. I turn around, startled. One of my captors is coming towards me. I want to run and escape, but cannot fight the urge to stay and finish my kill. This moments hesitation costs me as I am grabbed and picked up and brought back to my prison.

They cannot keep me captive forever. There will be another day.