play him off, keyboard cat cult.

it was like a singles meet-up thing, some club, or some sort of relaxation and meditation workshop. who knew? i went anyway, and there were cats everywhere. a cat for just about every single attendee, and then some. i hated cats. i was allergic. and they had sharp claws, the kind that dig into your thighs, like little sharp knives. and the eyes of the devil. well, some of them anyway. everyone else was into the cats. each person picked one up, and they started going up the stairwell to the roof. i was last in line, and i didn't have a cat with me. the girl walking in front of me had the last one.

we reached the roof, and there was a freeway nearby. the members of the club - or should i say, cult - were waving the cats around in the air, spelling out letters with their paws. i didn't like what i saw. i started going back downstairs and the girl in front of me followed. she didn't like it, either. she insisted that i take her cat, but i refused. it was a "no-backsies" sort of thing we were playing. it suddenly occurred to me that we could just leave the damn cat, and leave for good.

the door was locked, though, or i imagined it was. it was locked from the inside, and there was no way out. the cult leader would know our thoughts, know that we were trying to leave, and he wouldn't allow that. he'd cover our bodies in sardines and we'd become cat nip. how could we fight back? he would drug us, make it so that we were immobile, but not drugged up enough that we wouldn't feel each bite. paralysis without anesthesia. it was possible, was it not? maybe i was being paranoid. maybe it was just my imagination. was he coming down the stairs? was he looking for us?

the two ladies with nice haircuts were sitting on the couch. "this is good," she said, and i could tell by her voice that she meant it. "and this is just a start," the other said, "just a first draft!" she said excitedly. i was onto something. the two ladies with nice haircuts and great enthusiasm confirmed it.

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