Cap'n Petey's Last Adventure

A distinctive thump made Maggie’s foot go down hard on the brakes. The car complained, squealing and swerving a little before coming to a stop. She had seen a flash of something out of the corner of her eye, but wasn’t sure what she had hit. She sat gripping the steering wheel, letting her heart settle before opening the door.

The black and white lump of fluff was still flopping a little on the pavement. It settled down to a subtle twitch before Maggie reached it. She knelt down beside the lump and examined it as well as she could without touching it.
Oh God, no, it couldn’t be.

Blood and tire marks had matted the once pristine coat, but even without life in its eyes Maggie recognized the distinctive black eye patch marking and fluffy black tipped tail of Petey, her friend Kate’s cat. Maggie rose to her feet so fast she swayed, world starting to dim, and grabbed the trunk of her car for support. This was no good. No good at all. She was meeting Kate for dinner just a few hours from now. And here was her cat, Cap’n Pete, twisted and lifeless behind her car. His last great adventure. Who knew he’d use up his nine lives so fast?

Maggie looked up and down the street and was relieved to see the street was void of people. Carefully, she rolled the stiffening Petey to the side of the road with her foot, just off the pavement. If not for the awkward twist of his spine and red matted patches on his fur, he looked almost serene surrounded by the patches of bright clover that clustered around his head. He might have been sleeping. Maggie took one more glance around her. The street was still empty. She hopped back in her car, hoping the tire marks left behind could never be traced back to her.

The Terror

“Ouch! What the heck was that for?”

A quick pain shot through my shin to my knee and back down. I briefly considered kicking the kid back, then caught the sharp glance from Melissa, before she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. I glared back at her, clutching at my throbbing right leg. Ben, meanwhile, ignored me. I bit my lip before taking a deep breath, and tried to unbury what patience I might have left from within. I decided sitting down might help cure the nearly overpowering twitch that was still screaming at me to just kick him.

“Ben.” My voice seemed unnaturally high. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Ben, it’s really not nice to kick people. It doesn’t feel good, and…”

The kid was already halfway across the room, beelining it for some exotic-looking plant sitting on the coffee table. I hopped to my feet to follow him, but tripped. He had managed to untie my shoe during my brief speech on niceties. I watched helplessly from my belly-down position on the floor as the plant landed upside-down on the cream-colored carpet. Oh, if only I had a gun....