It’s pitch black and eerily quiet. I peer out. “Where’s the trash can?”
Hmm.
I hear a noise and then a bang, and I frown as I look out into the backyard. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
Shit . . . this is fucking creepy. I close the door and go back into the house. I’m not risking my life for a ticking time bomb—no chance.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
Although . . .
“Shut up, shut up,” I whisper as I shake it. I stare down at the stupid clock as it taunts me. I imagine myself throwing it hard against the wall and it smashing into a thousand pieces.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I look around the kitchen for somewhere quiet, somewhere that will shut this thing up, and I see the perfect plan.
Diabolical.
I open the freezer and stuff the clock in there and slam the door. I smile as I dust my hands together. “That’s taken care of you.”
I walk out into the living room and stand at the bottom of the stairs. I wonder what she would do if I just sneaked up there for a little bit of spooning. I smile as I imagine myself slipping into her bed.
I’m missing her.
I come back to earth with a thud, and I roll my eyes. I know that’s not going to happen.
I lie back down on the couch and nestle in as I try to get comfortable.
One hour later
“Meow.”
I scrunch my eyes shut . . . no, make it stop.
Purr . . . purr . . . purr. “Meow.” I try to block it out. “Meow.”
Oh hell, a night in this godforsaken place is worse than being on Survivor.
“Meeeooowww.”
“What?” I whisper angrily as I sit up in a rush. “What the fuck do you want, Muff Cat?”
Purr, purr, purr. The cat jumps on top of me, and I wince. It crawls onto my lap and sits there.
“What?” I snap.
The cat looks up at me.
“There aren’t a thousand other places to sit in this house? You have to fucking sit on me?”
“Meow.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I push it off me and lie back down and turn my back to it.
“Meow.”