Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Letting the Cat out of the Bag

Today's muse: Six Sentences

This site has become my new obsession. Don't worry, it won't last long. Just bear with me while I work/write through it. Besides, the format lends well to retelling anecdotes like this one (which, by the way, is a true story).

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Letting the Cat Out of the Bag

A few years ago, before green was keen, we lugged our plastic grocery bags up to our apartment, and began to unload our bounty, tossing the empty plastic bags on the floor to later knot and store for use as garbage liners. Fred The Cat, living up to the Curiosity Adage (or, in her case, the Scare The Shit Outta Me Proverb), crawled into one of the discarded bags. It could have been her imaginary friend, or the ghost of Christmas Past—we’re still not sure—but something spooked her. She jumped up in the air, all four legs splayed out like a freestyle parachuter, claws at the ready. As the bag shredded to ribbons around her, one handle managed to loop around her head, and she ran around the apartment from room to room in a zigzag pattern trying to escape the evil plastic monster that dogged her every move.

It took us about fifteen minutes to remove the plastic yoke—not because we couldn’t catch her, but because we were both paralyzed with laughter.

1 comment:

Heather said...

Too funny! My dog, Hazel, scared me to death one day with a plastic bag as well. Slightly different story. I haven't lived it down yet, but the day I do I will write about it. Too many prying eyes until then.