Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Phantom Cat


Scene: approximately 1 am, last Monday. My best friend has agreed to spend the remainder of the week watching me pack and laze about at a pool belonging to an apartment complex I don't live in. We are driving along dark country back roads on the way to College Station.
And then a cat comes thrashing across the road in a fit of wild rage. Okay, he just carelessly runs out in front of my car and I hit him.

Me: (Screaming reminiscent of B Horror Film) "Oh My God. Oh my God. I think we hit a cat."
Darlene: "If you ever scream like that again I will slap you. I'm horrified. I couldn't even respond to seeing that cat because your scream was so scary."
Me: "I think we hit a cat..."
Darlene: "I was like literally going to shout, 'Lauren, there's an animal!' but I couldn't get it out because your scream startled me."
Me: "Maybe we didn't hit it..."
Darlene: "We?"
Me: "Okay me, Maybe I didn't hit it."
Darlene: "I'm not trying to be mean, but I'm pretty sure you hit it. I felt the car go over it."
Me: "You're an ass!"
Darlene: "I'm just being honest."
Me: "I'm a bad person. I killed a cat. What if that was someone's pet?"
Darlene: "No one lives out here, we're in the middle of no where."
We drive past a lone house with the lights still on.
Me: "See!!! I have to go back and look. I'm taking this turn-around."
Darlene: "Oh my God. This is scary. It's dark and we're in the wilderness. If you get out of the car, I'm not waiting for you."
Me: "I won't get out. I just need to know for sure whether I killed it or not."
Darlene: "Okay, but I'm pretty sure you killed it. You ran it over. You cat-killer."
Me: "Shut up."
Darlene: "Meow."
Me: Ughh
We drive back a couple of miles and turn onto the same stretch of road where alleged feline homicide took place.
Me: "Do you see anything? I don't see it. Maybe we didn't drive back far enough...I'm turning around again."
Darlene: "Sometimes animals don't die right where they get hit. Like this one time Mona hit a deer and it walked over to the side of the road and layed in a ditch to die. The next day when she took me to see the deer, its head was cut-off. She thinks the police officers cut it off because it was a ten-point deer."
Me: "I don't even know what that means. But that's disgusting."
Darlene: "I think it means it's the biggest deer...Hey, you should check the grass in case it died there."
Me: "I've been looking. I don't see it. Maybe it didn't die..."
Darlene: "Yeah maybe, but I'm pretty sure you killed it."
Me: "You are evil."
Darlene: "Meoooow."

I've given the situation much consideration and I've come to this conclusion: I am a ghost-whisperer.

Only like with animals.

To back up my claim, I offer as evidence the time I spent four hours with my head against my bedroom wall listening to a non-existent rat chewing and scurrying and scratching.
There was also this one time I saw something run across my screen door and I assumed it was an Opossum but when I went to look with baseball bat in tow, it was not there and presumably, was Never there to begin with...
And now this.

Try not to be overwhelmed by my paranormal talents, I put my pants on one leg at a time--just like everybody else. Syfy channel producers; take note (and also, if you're reading this--it makes no sense that you changed your channel's name from SciFi to Syfy. But you should still give me a show).

*The picture of Shakespeare and I is almost un-related except Shakespeare probably has the same sixth sense since he was also concerned about the  imaginary  phantom possum and rat in the wall...

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