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CONVENTIONAL PARASITE
by K. J. Cash
04/07/08
Not For Sale
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Time came to a crashing halt, and before I realized what was happening, my world went black.

A voice broke through my consciousness.

“You’re garments. So cozy for kitty kitty.”

“You’re garments. So cozy for kitty kitty.”

I felt something brush against my chest.

“What?” I sat up startled.

“So cozy for kitty kitty.” It said looking up at me with oversized hypnotic black eyes.

I knew I should have been scared, but I wasn’t, even though I had never seen a creature like it before—a black fur covered body the size of a cat with six pairs of hairy insect like legs. Its padded paws seemed to stick and lift, stick and lift, as the creature burrowed against me like it was never satisfied with its positioning and constantly longing for closer footing. The most disturbing aspect of this creature was the long womanly hair that fell around its white pug nosed face. It was my hair, my color, my style in long strawberry blond locks.

Still seated, I found myself drawing back from the creature. Almost mechanically, it ejected its claws into my chest. Exquisite pains surged from each puncture wound through my body, and the creature began greedily lapping at the bloody trails trickling down my skin and into my robe. How stained it was with many a dried bloody trail. The smell rotting flesh filled my awareness.

“Get away from me!” I shouted. I pressed both of my palms into the creature’s forehead trying to lift its head away from my wounds. The creature stopped and tensed every muscle.

Perhaps it was trying to subtly indicate to me its intense strength, because I instantly realized that it wasn’t going to be easy to get out of the grip of this monster. Heeding its warning, I slowly took my palms off its head and rested back on my elbows. It looked up at me with a clownish and menacing red smear of blood around its lips.

“Kitty feeding,” it said strangely cocking its head to one side, “so yummy yummy life.”

“What?” I had to force myself to concentrate—to speak. “What kind of monster are you?”

“I your pet,” it said. “I your kitty kitty”.

I winced as it nuzzled its face against me. I was sickened to the shuddering depths of my being by such a loving gesture from such a contemptuous parasite.

They say the best thing to do when you’re sinking in quicksand is to relax. My life depended on my ability to think and act decisively.

This creature seemed to need me. As disconcerting as the beast was to encounter, I had to check the panic mode. As much as I wanted to scream and run and fight, I sensed my life was more in ultimate or inevitable danger than in immediate danger. The scales were tipped in the creatures favor. It seemed to know everything about me. I knew nothing about it. I had to find out why it needed me—to find an alternative source of nourishment for the creature—or to somehow make my blood less filling or less available. I attempted to reason with the creature. Maybe I could convince it to go away.

“You’re not my pet. You’re not my…” I futily searched for words. “ANYTHING.”

The creature paused from its manipulative nuzzling act and stretched out comfortably on its side. With its head still resting on my breast bone, it nonchalantly looked up at me and said,

“I your kitty kitty.”

“What are you saying? Where did you come from? What the hell are you?” All those words I couldn’t find before were now firing rounds the beast. “You are soooo not my kitty kitty. I’ve never seen you, your kind, or whatever the hell you are B-fore in my LIFE!”

It began singing to me, “Every day and every hour, I your kitty kitty.” That really screwed with my mind, because suddenly I was in the middle of some kind of bizarre musical horror flick. “Every day and every hour…” It continued, “IIIIII kitty.”

Clearly, I wasn’t going to get anywhere reasoning with this psycho kitty. “This has to stop!” Full on panic mode set in way sooner than I had hoped. “I want out!” I mustered every bit of strength I had, got my feet underneath me, and pushed myself up. The creature, still clinging to me, began to chant.

“You don’t know magic words. You don’t know magic words.”

“Please!” I shouted. Mom always said please was the magic word.

“You don’t know magic words. You don’t know magic words.”

I have a special hand held broom for sweeping up dead bugs. I call a neighbor to empty my mouse traps. I don’t touch gross things, but I wasn’t thinking about anything like that when I gripped the creature by its throat with both hands. It was an effort of determined termination. I visualized my hands squeezing right through the creatures neck, and its head gleefully popping off.

Then I saw myself in a mirror. I suppose it had been in the corner all along, I just had been so consumed with this creature; I hadn’t fully taken in my surroundings. I was driving. The street sign said, “Jackson Avenue”. I was turning to pull into a parking lot as I hurried to suck down a cigarette, because I knew it would be a few hours before my next. Apparently I was heading into work for the day.

I realized I had relaxed my grip on the creature’s throat.

It spoke to me. “This is going to be a long day,” the voice was my own.

“My head is pounding,” it said.

“When is my life going to get better? Is this all there is? Work, work, 9-5, then go home. Work some more.”

I had those thoughts nearly every day.

I looked down at myself and took it all in. The foul stench, the filthy garment, the hideous beast, and I asked myself just what those magic words could be.

The floor began to glow with a bluish light around my feet. I sensed my deliverance. A smile spread across my face, and the light spread along with my smile getting bigger and brighter with every passing moment. Whispers echoed and grew in volume until the message came to me loud and clear. I repeated the magic words as loudly and clearly as possible.

“This is going to be a good day,” I said.
I closed my eyes as the light became bright and white and much more than I could bear. Christ came to me as filthy as I was and offered me His life.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing alone in front of the mirror, but somehow I knew I wasn't alone. The light was inside of me. Christ was with me. My robe was fresh and clean.

The creature’s wig lay in the floor in a heap. I picked it up, and put it on my fist. I mused for a moment turning it from side to side and straightened the locks that fell down around my arm.

How could I have let myself become abducted by such cheap trickery? I wondered.

I looked around, but there was no where to dispose of the wig—no fire and not even a garbage can. There was however a smooth wooden head sitting on a pedestal near the mirror. I hung the wig around the head. I knew I would have to keep it guarded always.

I could see through the mirror that it was time to go to work. I stretched out my hand to open the office door.

Time came to a crashing halt, and before I realized what was happening, my world went black.


If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW

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Member Comments
Member Date
Gerald Shuler  20 Aug 2008
Wow, I went looking for your most recent work and look what I find! Remarkable. This is Poe good.
Janice Cartwright 31 May 2008
There's genius at work here, far above my ability to critique. I once adopted a black half-grown kitten - I should have named it parasite because of its penchant of going for my throat, every time it came near, to try to suckle. I could never break it of that habit: only cat I ever had I never learned to love and so I ended up giving it away. I still think of it with regret both for the misguided creature and its new owners. Apparently it had been deprived of enough mothering at too young an age. Your convential parasite put me back there pulling that black furry thing off my neck. Reader connection = A+ One tiny spelling glitch - or maybe you meant it to be the way you typed it. Shouldn't you're garments be your garments? Very unusual piece - stays with the reader both to haunt and amuse.




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