Ready for an outrageous tale that’s going to make you cringe as often as you chuckle? Then you’re ready for Guy Cheston’s new short story, Bad Kitty.
You can read a satisfying excerpt below, but we recommend you read the whole thing, right here!
By Guy Cheston (@guycheston)
People were worried about the way Jared was dealing with his mother’s death. Always the loner, he’d been pounding back booze and stuffing pizza down his throat when he wasn’t busy sleeping. It was his aunt that finally convinced him that he needed pet therapy, something soft and sweet to cuddle. She looked so much like his Mom, and so he’d caved. He pulled into his driveway and grabbed the pet kennel, in which his adopted little black kitten now resided, and walked into the house. He went straight to his man-cave and set her down in the corner and opened the crate.
The cat didn’t come out. Jared peered into the kennel to see that she had pressed herself against the back wall, an insane look in her eyes.
Well, whatever. He placed a bowl of food and water a few feet away from the crate, pulled a beer out of the fridge, poured himself a bowl of chips, then settled into his lazy boy. Leaning back in the recliner always made him tired. Come to think, now was as good a time as any to get some rest. He’d make friends with the cat in a little bit. His mind wandered in and out of sleep and he was vaguely aware of the sun setting.
His eyes snapped open to darkness. The air was thick, electrifying. He sat up in the recliner and the movement sent shivers and goosebumps up his arms, shoulders, neck.
The temperature in the room had changed. Instead of warm heat flowing from the vents, there was a chill. Where the room smelled of potato chips and beer before he fell asleep, now it smelled of earth and decay.