*The latest entry of Dislocated welcomes guest contributor, Eloise.
A few weeks ago, the one I call Primary Servant, or Lord Prise for short, the human who most often feeds me, and attempts to provide me the soothing pets I so rightfully demand (which he fails at more often than not), decided to invite a houseguest to stay with us. In the weeks prior to the arrival of this “friend,” he did not attempt to consult with me even once, or ask me if I had an opinion on the matter. Nor did he show me the smallest measure of consideration by warning me of the impending arrival. I find this completely unacceptable. I can understand, and will happily forgive, the fact that he did not consult with my idiot canine brothers (as Lord Prise frustratingly likes to refer to them), but the fact that there was nary a word to me amounts to much more than just an ill advised slight.
Below is a partially detailed account of those weeks, and the hardships that I endured, culled from my Official Journal. I provide it so that history might, at least to some degree, come to understand the events of those difficult days.
DAY ONE
The invader arrived today. He has so much baggage, both physical and emotional, that I find myself actively avoiding him. Lord Prise attempted to introduce us, but I do not believe I will bother to learn his name. I think I will simply refer to him as Servant Number Two, or Count Sernutwo. I see no other use for him, and believe it is a very apt moniker. Like the others who occupy my realm, I prefer the succinctness of the name I have chosen for him.
DAY THREE
I have been steering clear of Count Sernutwo, mostly because I do not like him, but also because he is overly loud. He talks quite incessantly. The only time the house seems quiet anymore is when he is at his place of employment, although I sincerely question his possession of any marketable skills. The only time Count Sernutwo seems to stop talking is when he sleeps, or when he watches the Infernal Box with Lord Prise, intervals not yet nearly long enough. How I long for them whenever he opens his mouth.
DAY FOUR
I believe I will need to train the invader. He does not seem to understand his duties, or grasp that it is within my right to demand whatever my mood may bring, and that he always need accommodate me. So I believe it falls upon me to educate him. I am certain that I will find his service sorely lacking and not up to my very reasonable standards, yet I believe two full-time servants, both partially inept and negligent in their duties, could possibly equal a competent one.
DAY SIX
Count Sernutwo prepared dinner for Lord Prise, and his friend, Part-Time Servant, or Duchess Patísé, today. From their reactions I believe he might have a talent for cooking. Except, after trying for hours, I could not seize even the tiniest scrap for myself. No matter how many times I jumped onto the counter while he was chopping vegetables, or sniffed at the food he was preparing whilst his back was turned, or stood underfoot to ensure he knew that I was there, not once did he present to me even the smallest of morsels. As they all ate I jumped upon the table to demand my rightful portion, at which time Count Sernutwo manhandled me, and placed me back onto the floor. I was enraged. There is simply no excuse for such behavior.
DAY SEVEN
I’ve decided I need a strategy in which to effectively train Count Sernutwo. Since I do not believe in positive reinforcement, I have decided that breaking him in is the best course of action. If that fails, I will need to break him. I have a little less than two weeks, but believe it should be more than ample time. All that I require is an effective plan.
DAY EIGHT
After a week of careful observation, I believe I have identified Count Sernutwo’s greatest weaknesses and fears. Using this information, I have developed a three-pronged approach to help rid him of his questionable conduct.
- Never let him get truly comfortable.
If I am not comfortable, I do not believe he should be either, and have found a way to use his sleeping apparatus, specifically his “air” “mattress,” against him. He seems to fear the possibility of me puncturing it with my razor-sharp claws, so I will threaten him with just such a prospect.
- Keep him constantly off-balance.
After convincing Count Sernutwo that I enjoy his company, I will attempt to cuddle up to him for long stretches, and allow him to pet me. After calmly bearing what I’m sure will seem like eons of his hackneyed petting style, and making sure not to give him any advance warning, I will attack quite suddenly and ferociously, tearing at the flesh from his offending hand.
- Prevent him from achieving restful sleep.
During the wee hours of the morning, at alternating intervals from threatening his air mattress, I will creep onto his bed and wake him from a sound sleep under the ruse of demanding petting and general attention. At 3 A.M. and 6 A.M. seem like the most optimal times, but I will refine as necessary to get the most favorable results.
DAY NINE
I tested the first part of my plan this evening. After Count Sernutwo settled in for the night, I curled up next to him. I acted pleased, and began purring, instilling in him a false sense of security. It was a masterful performance. Not long after I started clawing contentedly upon the surface of his air mattress. Immediately he became distressed, and asked me politely to stop. He had no retort when inevitably I ignored him. A few moments later he picked me up and tried to hold me, but I would not allow it. I managed to pry myself loose, jumped to the floor, and made sure he was watching as I positioned myself so it would appear I was about to sharpen my claws on his precious air mattress. “Come on, Eloise,” he said desperately, hustling me away. It was music to my ears.
DAY TEN
Only a few hours after threatening to sharpen my claws on his bed, I pulled Count Sernutwo from a sound slumber at 3:12 AM, and demanded attention. He tried numerous times to get me to stop, but I would not relent. I let him dangle on the precipice of sleep for close to an hour, and then finally let him find it. Sixty-seven minutes later I woke him again, and repeated the process a second time. He looks disheveled today, and very tired. He keeps nodding off while watching the Infernal Box with Lord Prise. I, on the other hand, feel very powerful. I hope this feeling never subsides.
DAY ELEVEN
I have discovered an additional tactic to use against Count Sernutwo − slumbering upon him while he sleeps. The approach seems to disturb his rest just as much as threatening his sorry excuse for a bed. Whether I place myself on his back (when he is positioned on his stomach), atop his side, or on his chest (when he sleeps on his back), I managed to find the most uncomfortable ways to “cuddle” with him. This produces an infuriatingly unsound sleep.
DAY TWELVE
I am getting so sick of his blood-curdling laugh, and his acrid human scent. The act of appearing as if I like him is taking its toll on me. As of late, he always wants to deluge me with his ham-fisted attempts at affection. I do not know if I can keep this up. I may have undertaken more than I originally anticipated.
DAY THIRTEEN
I will stay the course no matter what. He slighted me again today. I required that he entice me with the ferret-on-a-stick, so I could eviscerate and destroy it, and keep my skills honed, but after only a few moments he lost interest. He truly is an oafish clod. Herding humans like him is such a burden. The demands of my position are so unfair.
DAY FOURTEEN
I let him pet me again today. I even purred loudly, to spur him on, but it was entirely awful. When it came time to attack I cut deeply, and drew blood. His screams of agony still echo through my mind. “Eloise!” he said pathetically as an admonishment. He failed to notice my lips curled with absolute pleasure.
DAY FIFTEEN
I threatened his air mattress once again last night. Then proceeded to sleep on his back, only moving when I woke him at around 3 A.M., and once more at around 6 A.M. In addition, I drew blood again this afternoon, but sadly it was only a minor cut. This seems like a very effective strategy. Count Sernutwo seems confused, and has resorted to talking to himself. I do not know if it is his fatigue, confusion, or because no one else wants to hear his incessant yammering, but I believe I am driving him mad.
DAY SEVENTEEN
He voluntarily gave me treats today. I think my plan is working. I think he is beginning to understand that I mean to rule him.
DAY EIGHTEEN
I was mistaken. He slighted me once again. I just wanted a small taste of his dinner, yet he refused. I must step up my efforts. He is set to leave in only a few days, and I am determined to crush his spirit by then.
DAY NINETEEN
My efforts are taking their toll. Count Sernutwo’s sleeping patterns have become erratic. He has also stopped talking, and has isolated himself in the room where he sleeps. I think he will break in the next few hours. Just in time. In the days before he departs he will do whatever I demand of him, and without any protest.
DAY TWENTY
Someone has conspired against me. (Lord Prise? One of my idiot canine brothers?) Suddenly Count Sernutwo seems to know all about my plans, and in an effort to exact his own revenge, has employed what I believe are two Agents of the Nether Realm: the Blanket Gnome and Red-Dot Sprite. The three of them have become hell bent on punishing me. They are trying to drive me mad.
DAY TWENTY-ONE
As I rested atop Count Sernutwo’s chest today the Blanket Gnome appeared quite suddenly again, lurking just below the covers. I watched intently as it moved about, taunting me to no end. Yet no matter how perfectly I timed my counter-strike, I could not capture it, nor feast on its vexatious flesh. Count Sernutwo’s laughter was like ash in my mouth. He is set to leave tomorrow, but not before I break him once and for all.
DAY TWENTY-TWO
Lord Prise left town today for a week. Normally something of this nature would have left me entirely alone, interrupted only by periodic visits from Neighbor Servant, or Viceroy Neigant. Yet, of his own volition, Count Sernutwo has agreed to stay with me, and not depart on his trip as planned. After everything I have subjected him to, after all my torture and torment, he has freely chosen to care for me for a full seven days. His bravery almost melts my tender heart. Almost. I now have seven more days in which to fracture his spirit − seven more days of just he and I.
DAY TWENTY-FOUR
The Red-Dot Sprite is driving me mad! It has visited me every day for the last half-week, and induced a state of fury in me unlike any creature I have encountered before or since. Unlike the Blanket Gnome, it is unconcerned with hiding itself, and flutters freely about a room with such speed and agility that I do not believe any mortal creature could capture it. I was sure I had myself succeeded numerous times, but upon lifting my paw, ready to finally gulp it’s magical blood, I would find nothing there. A second later I would spot the Sprite inexplicably somewhere across the room, taunting me yet again.
DAY TWENTY-FIVE
From the moment he arrived, Count Sernutwo has constantly been working on one of his devices. It occurred to me today that it is also likely how he has been communicating with his Agents of the Nether Realm. This fills me with such depths of ire that I can barely contain my anger. In an effort to halt their communiqué I have begun placing myself between Count Sernutwo and his device. I simply meander directly between he and it, and stare at him unblinkingly as he tries frantically to find an angle at which he can see what I am blocking. Dozens of times I did this, and on more than a few occasions I turned 180 degrees and thrust my nether realm into his face. This disgusted him, and his delicate sensibilities. It gave me such delight to hear his pained cries of, “Eloise, come on!”
DAY TWENTY-SIX
Count Sernutwo must sense my extreme displeasure, because he has been trying to ingratiate himself to me. Not only has he been feeding me like clockwork as of late, mixing the Royal Pâté perfectly with a splash of warm water, he has even been lifting me onto the Royal Serving Platform so I could enjoy my meal without having to exert myself beforehand. I have begun fighting the urge to (dare I say) like him, and each day I become more displeased with myself for having these feelings.
DAY TWENTY-SEVEN
Count Sernutwo continues to try and please me. He scrubbed large portions of my realm, and for the fourth day in a row scooped my litter. He even went so far as to tidy the Royal Throne Room to a luster shine it hasn’t seen in many a fortnight. As I watched him toil there, I felt the desire to warn him about the futility of his efforts, because I would, most likely, return the space to its sullied state before the hour was through, but decided to let him believe his efforts weren’t for naught. Despite all of this, I am still conflicted about my feelings towards him. Should I let my guard down? Has he learned his lesson?
DAY TWENTY-EIGHT
The week has been splendid. So much so I believe Count Sernutwo is a changed man. His care of me over these past days has been exemplary. I have not yet dispensed with his lessons, though. I think I will do so when Lord Prise returns.
DAY THIRTY
I am disgusted! I am offended! I am angry! I was premature in my adoration. Count Sernutwo again announced his intentions to leave for good. No matter how loudly I purr, how closely I cuddle, or gently I scratch, I cannot get him to agree to stay. I have begun to hate him again, and despise myself for my lenient behavior. He must be a sorcerer. It is the only reasonable explanation for how he fooled me into caring for him so deeply. He must be punished for his impudence. He must serve as an example to others. He must be executed.
Also, Lord Prise returned today.
DAY THIRTY-ONE
I started planning for the execution by observing Count Sernutwo’s sleeping patterns and positions, making meticulous notes of each. I also adopted an intense calisthenic routine with which to regain some of the light-footedness of my younger days. I gave him no indication of what I was planning. As far as Count Sernutwo is concerned, all is still right between us. I was masterful in my deception.
DAY THIRTY-TWO
Today was full of more observations and preparations. I have less than a week now before he is set to leave. How little he knows of the real means of his departure.
DAY THIRTY-FIVE
I have kept up the ruse masterfully this week. He has no idea what is coming. I strike tomorrow.
DAY THIRTY-SEVEN
At 1:36 AM I carried out my attack. With great stealth I crept into the room where he was sleeping, and climbed slowly onto his air mattress to find him, as expected at that time of night, slumbering on his back. Gracefully I moved onto his chest, and carefully sat down just above his heart. He did not feel a thing. Looking down at him as helpless as he was almost made me regret what I was about to do. Yet I crouched down ever so slightly, and edged my face towards his until they were less than an inch apart.
There are an embarrassing number of people in the world who earnestly believe that a cat is incapable of stealing a person’s breath. I t is an old wive’s tale, some say, and a remnant of a bygone era. They ascribe it, incorrectly, to the days of the witch. Others theorize we do it for warmth, still others say we are searching for the source of snoring, and there are a few who actually believe we do it because we’ve caught the scent of tuna on a person’s breath. They are all wrong. It is real, it is powerful, and it is what I did to Count Sernutwo as I sat perched on his chest that night.
Within seconds I could feel the life draining from his body. By the half-minute mark I sensed his end was approaching. By a minute I knew it had arrived. As I welcomed that for which I had been preparing for so long, I flashed on a memory: Count Sernutwo confidently butchering Adele’s “Someone Like You” while wearing a big goofy smile and cleaning my Royal Throne Room. I despise that memory. Everything about it disgusts me, but there it was. I may have loosened my grip. In the confusion of that moment I may have lost focus, and allowed Count Sernutwo to break free. It’s the only thing that makes sense, because one moment I had him dangling on the precipice, and the next he was coughing deeply and desperately, sitting up in a sudden state of full alertness. It is a moment that will haunt me forever.
DAY THIRTY-EIGHT
He left today. I refused to acknowledge his departure. He tried to level a “goodbye” against me, but I would not allow it. He did not get any such satisfaction from me. My life will now simply revert to the way it was before his arrival. I welcome that. Besides, as Lord Prise and my idiot canine brothers accompanied him out, I heard them talking about the possibility of him returning. I could live with that, too. It gives me time to plan, to perfect. If Count Sernutwo ever steps foot in my domain again, one thing is for certain. I will not make the same mistake twice.
In the meantime I must decide on Lord Prise’s punishment for his egregious oversight, and for subjecting me to the horrors of the last thirty-eight days.
While I’m at it, maybe I can also find a way to dispatch with my idiot canine brothers once and for all − the peace and quiet that would bring.
Oh, to dream….
Dislocated 