Feed me

The morning sun shown through the small bedroom window, and had barely swept away the darkness of the early morning. John lay sleeping in his bed, laying on his stomach, his head buried in the pillow. Kilroy, a small grey cat stood at the edge of the pillow, staring him down.

"Hey," Kilroy said softly, only to get no response. He repeated his plea, only louder.

"I'll feed you in a few minutes," John responded with a groan, as he turned his head towards the cat

Kilroy pressed his small head into John's and spoke through a growl. "I want something now!"

John's eyes shot open as he stare at the cat. Did it just talk to him, or was he imagining it? "What?"

"You heard what I said,"

"Dreaming," John muttered as he wiped the sleep from his face, "I must be dreaming!"

Kilroy sank his teeth onto John's nose, not hard, just enough to get his attention. "Does that feel like it's from a dream?"

"No, more like it's from a nightmare,"

"Funny." Kilroy noticed that John made no pretense of moving; he let out a hiss. "Get the hell up."

"Alright already, " John threw the covers off and meandered out to the kitchen.

"Hurry up!" Kilroy noticed that John was reaching towards the cheap bag of catfood. "No, no! Not that stuff!"

"It’s perfectly good,"

"For a stray cat maybe," Kilroy stare at the bag, "but not for me."

"There is no other food!" John insisted.

"You liar," Kilroy looked at the box of food that wasn't as well hidden as John might have thought. "Here's the stuff that I want."

"Uh--!" What was the use. Not only can the cat talk, but it can read as well. He pulled the box out.

"That's the stuff, that's the stuff," Kilroy rubbed the box as it came out of the cabinet.

"OKAY," John muttered, "let me get it."

"Hurry it up, I'm starving. I feel like I haven't eaten for six days."

"Six hours, Kilroy, six hours."

"Same difference," Kilroy looked up to see the box hanging over his head. "I just noticed something,"

"What’s that?"

"My dish is still empty!" Kilroy said with a howl.

"It's coming!"

"So is Christmas!"

John finally poured the catfood into the bowl. "There you go."

"Was that so hard?" Kilroy stare up at John. "Don't answer that!"

"Are you going to eat that, or are you just going to sit there looking at it?"

"I'm savoring the aroma for a minute."

"Right,"

"Besides, something is not right about it."

"And what, pray tell is that?"

"Not sure,"

"It’s what you begged for,"

"I know, just...well--." Kilroy pushed at the bowl with his paw. "There we go, the bowl wasn't in the right position.

"Finicky fuck!"

"Watch what you say."

"Speaking about saying, how can you speak what you say?"

"Come again?"

"Cats don't talk."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," John responded, "so there must have been something really important for you to get across to me for you to be able to talk. Something of some major cosmic importance?"

"Meh, not really." Kilroy looked up

"So, is this going to be an ongoing thing?" John asked.

"Not sure."

"I give up."

"It’s best not to overthink what is going on, " Kilroy said

"I guess not." John motioned with the box. "Want any more of this?"

"Not right now." Kilroy said. "OK, I'll stop talking now."

"OK," John muttered as he plopped down into the chair, wondering if what just happened really happened or if he imagining the whole thing.

"Say something."

"Mrow?"

"Though as much."