by Jeff Barnhart

Created on: August 03, 2008

"Horrid"

Based on an nightmare of the author.

Normal days are not something I'm used to in my life, and this day would be a day that would change the way I view the rest of my life. I live with a wonderful woman and we are to be married next year. Unfortunately, her Persian cat (Muffin) and I have a live/hate relationship. I let her live and she hates me.

I do have an American Eskimo (Sedona) that my loving fiance gave me for my birthday two years ago when I was fifty-four. The Eskie and I seem to share the same feeling for the cat, although I have caught Sedona every so often licking

Muffin's ear and vise/versa. To be perfectly honest I don't really hate Muffin, I just sort of don't like an orange ball of fur that walks around the house and poops were she wants and does want she wants and her master (my fiance) feels that she, the cat, can do no wrong.

Well, it was one day when I was in my office trying to write the "Great American Novel," when my life changed forever. And wouldn't you know it, Muffin started it all. It couldn't be my loving, white, ball of fur, no, it had to be my tormenter; that little, orange smashed in face ball of fur.

But alas, I digress and if I keep that up I'll never finish the story, so let me tell you the story of "Horrid." You'd better sit down, because from this point on your legs might not hold you're trembling body. You never know when the lights may go out and whenjust whensomething evil or someone evil will appear or may come through something to get at you. So, if you haven't already, find a good comfortable, easy chair and relax if you can.

"Muffin!" I yelled, "What are you doing in there?" as she ran out of the closet in my office, around the corner and into the hallway, disappearing beyond the wall. I wished I could will the door to move a few inches and then will the small plastic file cabinet to move next to the door so that "good old Muffin" wouldn't get back in while allowing the flow of air throughout the house. It gets stuffy in my office with the door closed. I knew the minute I thought about moving things with my mind that it would never happen.

Today things were going to change. I turned back to start typing again and I heard the door creak and the plastic file cabinet start to move. I slowly swirled my chair around and felt the cold, sharp shivers of surprise and awe jab through my soul; my thoughts were moving the door and the file cabinet. In the next minute I found myself being able to move almost anything just

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