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You've heard of puppy love...

Now get ready for

By Julia CowderoyPublished 2 months ago 10 min read
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Maggie sat slumped on the sofa, her feet resting on the velvet ottoman as she lazily swiped through Tinder. She let out a long sigh in regards to the pathetic prospects that danced across her phone screen, illuminating the dark living room. About an hour earlier out of sheer boredom, she had made up a drinking game to coincide with her idle swiping. She took a swig of her cheap wine everytime someone mentioned The Office in their bio, when they were holding a fish, if they were named Jason or Ryan, or if they had a list of demands in their bio. When she decided she wasn’t getting drunk fast enough, she decided to just drink something about their profile in general made her physically recoil.

Maggie was now quite drunk, lonely and a bit horny. In the best of times, this can be a disastrous combination. She was at an impasse in her life, having ended a five year long relationship seven months prior and not getting any action since. Last week, a minor earthquake shook her smalltown and she found herself, without thinking, straddling her couch and riding the vibrations. Thinking this was a hilarious story, she shared it with her best friend who looked at her gravely.

“Girl, you need to get laid,” her friend informed her, deadpan.

So, Maggie caved and downloaded Tinder for the first time. As she was quickly approaching thirty, she already had a couple decades worth of experience in how just terrible men could be. After using tinder for a couple weeks, she found herself almost impressed by the gender’s ability to keep outdoing themselves in terms of truly despicable behaviour.

In her current state, Maggie’s standard’s had dropped dramatically and she just needed to feel human touch. She suddenly felt paws on her outstretched legs, and found her longhaired cat, Reginald, peering up at her indignantly with his green saucer eyes.

“Sorry, Reggie, I stole your spot”

She moved her legs off the ottoman and Reginald leaped up and reclaimed his territory, purring gently as he groomed his paws.

Maggie had been having a rather uninspiring conversation with Jason, 28, for the better part of an hour. However, he did have two things going for him:

He was moderately attractive

He did not outwardly seem like a serial killer

In a daze of drunken randiness, she mused over the idea of inviting him over. Suddenly, an audible snort erupted from the ottoman. And then, Reginald decided to voice his opinion.

“Honestly, darling, him?”

Mouth agape, Maggie stared at her suddenly sentient feline friend and tried to form words but ended up stuttering incoherent nonsense. She took a deep sip of her wine, downing her glass to steady herself.

“Oh yes, I know, I have that effect on women…” Reginald leaped from the ottoman to the couch, enjoying himself as he sauntered closer to Maggie, his tail flicking playfully back and forth.

“I-I don’t know..I guess I just didn’t expect you to have a British accent,” Maggie giggled, despite herself. She found his voice quite charming and it actually suited his aloof personality quite well.

“Why of course, my love. All cats have pretentious British accents,” he licked his front paw and brushed it over his ears. Reginald was obsessive about grooming himself, which was more than she could say about a lot of the men in her dating life.

Oh my god, am I attracted to my cat? She thought in a panic, heat rising to her cheeks and spreading to her chest. Another terrifying thought crossed her mind, inspired by all the supernatural stories she read growing up.

“Wait, you can’t read minds…can you?” Maggie asked, eying her cat suspiciously. “What? Of course not, don’t be daft,” He replied lazily.

“Okay, good. So no cool superpowers?”

“Us felines have lived rent free in the homes of opulent humans for centuries, sleeping and eating our days away. You feed us, scope our faeces, brush us, and often love us more than your human counterparts. We may not be able to read minds, but mind control, we have mastered, darling,” he smuggly suggested, pushing his head against Maggie’s arm.

Without thinking, she began to scratch the back of his ears and realised he was right. She would have died for this furry fucker.

“Okay…so you’re going to help me with my dating life? I think I have a fine handle on it myself, thank you. In fact, I’m going to invite Jason over and we’re going to have some fun while you’re stuck licking your own butthole,” she stuck her tongue out at him and immediately had an out of body experience, wondering what the hell she was doing. Maggie was an educated lady with a respectable job and a nice apartment, having to prove the moral high ground to her recently sentient feline.

“Please, if humans had the flexibility to lick their own buttholes, you wouldn’t get anything else done..nonetheless, you’re making a mistake. My cat intuition says this guy is bad news”

Christ, Maggie thought, I should have never bought a cat on Kijiji.

It didn’t take too much convincing to get Jason at her apartment, despite Reggie’s numerous vocal warnings. He called her stupid for inviting him to her place for a first meeting, and reminded Maggie of certain episodes of Dateline they had spent many evenings watching together. He vocalised his distaste for Jason and wished he had opposable thumbs so he could do the swiping for her.

“If you don’t behave, I will lock you in the closet,” she warned.

“Oh, honey, been there,” he gazed up at her, clearly amused by her baffled expression.

Was her cat coming out to her? Could cats even be queer? Should she be supportive? These silly questions swam around in her mind aimlessly, and she shook her head and chose to ignore his cryptic reply.

Since months had passed since she had been intimate with anyone, Maggie started to get nervous. Reginald started quoting Dostoevsky which put her in a slightly trancelike state, wondering how her feline friend became so cultured. He was similarly well-versed in Thomas Hobbes, his bleak outlook on humans “resonated with him”. Soon enough, she found herself in an enriching conversation about human nature with Reginald and she almost forgot she invited Jason over twenty minutes ago. She frantically tidied her apartment and put on her favourite album, Rumours by Fleetwood Mac. The doorbell rang and she quickly contemplated bailing altogether, getting into her penguin onesie and watching Love Actually for the third time that month.

“No,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror with a determined stare, “I must commit….to the dick”

“Lord, give me strength,” her cat replied lazily, sulking out of the room to snack on some kibble in the kitchen.

Maggie opened the door with gusto, relieved to see the man before her looked like his pictures. Her relief was stopped dead in its tracks when Jason reached out and gently grabbed her hand.

Oh no.

He brought her hand up closer to his face. The room was spinning and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

What..what the fuck is he doing.

Jason brushed his lips softly against the back on her hand and looked down at her smugly.

“Enchantée, belle”

That’s strange, I could have sworn hand kissing as a way of greeting was outlawed by the Genova convention, Maggie thought numbly. She pulled her hand away, mustered a smile and tried to subtly wipe her hand on her jeans. Then, nothing. Maggie briefly forgot how to interact as a human as starred into space dumbly, embracing the void and wishing she could melt into the ground, to absolve herself of the moment.

“Um, is it okay if I come in?” He asked timidly, with such awkward earnestness that Maggie found endearing. Perhaps he wasn’t as slimy as his first impression had led her to believe.

“Yes! Sorry..would you like a glass of wine?”

“Nah. Gotta keep my sacred temple clean, you know how it is. I gotta run a 10k tomorrow”

Maggie decidedly could not sleep with this man. While he considered his body a temple, lately Maggie had been treating her body like a stream of sewage water from a factory in London’s industrial period.

Then, she noticed he was wearing a puka shell necklace and, although she knew it wasn’t physically possible, she could have sworn she felt some of her eggs die. She wanted this man out of her house, but this was uncharted territory and she felt too socially awkward to simply ask him to leave.

That’s when the brilliant idea struck her to act as weird as possible in hopes of scaring him away. With expert timing, Reginald stalked into the room and started stretching at the couch, something he knew damn well he wasn’t supposed to do.

“This is my cat and best friend, Reginald,” she informed Jason as Reginald brushed up affectionately on her leg, glaring at Jason.

“Sick,” he replied, clearly only half listening as he stared obviously at Maggie’s breasts.

“Yeah. He actually gained sentience today and started talking to me. He likes philosophy, if you can believe it. He might be gay but that’s okay, I’m an ally. My cousin is gay”

“Oh no way,” he muttered absently as his eyes slowly undressed her.

Maggie was growing frustrated and scanned her mind for more anecdotes a crazy person may say. This man’s stupidly made him immune to her ramblings. She felt his hand guiding her down to the couch and followed him, considering just sleeping with him to get it over with.

Maggie tensed up as she felt his hand on her knee. Suddenly, Reginald leaped on the shelf above them and knocked a glass over. The glass fell on top of Jason’s head, scattering shards of glass across the floor. Jason looked stunned as blood fell over his dumb face.

“Sorry, I guess Reggie’s just the jealous type,” she giggled, hoping he would get scared off.

“You’re fucking crazy. I was hoping it would be the hot crazy, this is bullshit!” he yelled, applying pressure to his head. Reggie jumped on his lap, dug his claws into his thighs and hissed at him until Jason sprang to his feet and ran out of Maggie’s apartment.

“I gotta run a 10k tomorrow..” he cried as he left the apartment.

“Good luck!” Maggie giggled and scoped up Reggie in her arms, burying her face in his soft fur.

“Oh Reggie, you saved me!”

“When will you learn Maggie…no man will ever be good enough for you..”

Maggie sat down on the couch, still cradling her cat in her arms and humming softly to herself.

“That is…no human man”

She suddenly felt his paw softly graze her cheek. She blushed and opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words. The paw brushed against her lips.

“Sh…don’t speak, darling..” he purred.

“I..I thought you were gay,” Maggie stuttered, dumbfounded.

“And you’re a human. I typically despise humans, but you’re not like other humans.There’s several levels where this is…wrong..”

“Then why does it feel so..right” Maggie whispered.

And so, they held each other in the darkness, and Maggie felt a surreal calmness within the madness. In that fate-filled evening, she dedicated herself to her pussy.

ComedyWritingWitSatireGeneralFunnyComedians
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