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Hi! Welcome to Vertigo's Fun House. Here, you'll find write-ups on unsolved mysteries, riffs of creepypastas/fanfiction, and more. Thanks for stopping by! It means a lot.

Sunday, February 10, 2019

Riff-Review 12: Cats



I've been posting cat pictures each day on a Discord server I'm a part of. As such, I thought it'd be fitting I tackle a creepypasta that featured cats. With that said: here's Cats.



Robert was convinced that his cat was trying to kill him.


I figured all cats were perpetually planning on murdering their owners.


After using the litter box, Mr. Cuddles kicks the litter around, leaving a big gaping hole in the middle of the box.


Ah, the tense swap. Because creepypasta authors are incapable of sticking with one. Also, how hard did this kick his litter box that made a hole in it? Is this kick a black belt in Taekwondo?


Robert was positive that Mr. Cuddles was practicing body burial.


Robert was clearly schizophrenic and needed medication.

Robert also occasionally woke up on the sofa after his afternoon nap to find Mr. Cuddles kneading about on his body.


Robert was actually a gingerbread man in the making. His owner had stepped away for a bit to grab their phone. What a twist!


Robert was certain that this was not a display of affection, but a clever technique in which Mr. Cuddles very subtlety checked his internal organs for weaknesses.


I’m not sure if I should be impressed that this story is taking itself this seriously or if I should be pissed off. It’s blurring the line between what I think is hysterical and what is disheartening.


Cuddles seemed to have settled on the pancreas.


Clearly, Mr. Cuddles was looking to see if Robert had that thing called “cancer” in his “pancreas”.


Robert stopped having afternoon naps.


Good, maybe now Robert can do more productive things with his life. Like not be afraid of his cat.

And so Robert went through every day and every night in fear that his cat would come out of the darkness and suddenly disembowel him,


Mr. Cuddles is the newest way that Solid Snake goes about sneaking around. Cardboard box? That’s so last decade. Shrinking down to the size of a cat to be a sneak king? Hell yeah. That’s what’s cool now, right fellow kids?


for some of the cat medicine men had mysterious powers, and could shapeshift into anything.


Sounds like the work of WITCHES!


Robert was also sure that there existed a secret ring of cat terrorists bent on overthrowing humankind via faked cuteness and disarming meows.


So that’s why Rome really fell!


He dubbed these vile scum as caterrorists.


Now all Robert has to say that is these caterrorists have oil and his problems will be solved!


Robert was not good at names.


Cataliban would’ve worked better if you ask me.

Robert would have killed Mr. Cuddles himself, if not in fear of the retribution that he would bring unto himself from the crazed cult of caterrorists, who would undoubtedly claw themselves into his house and lay giant rat traps everywhere, which, Robert speculated, they would use out of a love for cruel irony.


This sentence runs on like Robert would if he killed Mr. Cuddles himself.  Too bad he didn’t think to just blow up his house and speed off into the night to some desolate location where cats would never go. Like, I dunno, the middle of Arizona. Buy a few dogs. Put up some barbed wire. Maybe buy a python. Or rattlesnake.

He tried to intimidate Mr. Cuddles by goading him into a staring competition, but he always lost.


Robert should’ve drawn eyes on sticky notes and put them over his eyes.


Mr. Cuddles never blinked.


This is funny and all, but I have to ask: why didn’t Robert use a laser pointer? Aren’t cats notorious for reacting to those things; trying to catch them and all? Maybe I’m thinking about this from a more logical and realistic perspective and this story’s clearly aiming for more absurdity, but I would’ve loved to have seen something like, “Mr. Cuddles simply whacked the laser pointer out of Robert’s hand!” Or something akin to that.


Those damned cat eyes, staring straight at him, straight down into his soul!


Robert stared into the abyss. The abyss meowed back.


They seemed to know everything about him.


The NSA’s newest weapon: cats. Someone ask Snowden for confirmation!


They seemed to be taunting him!


I take that back: the eyes were the real masters and were alien parasites that had taken over Mr. Cuddles mind! Invasion of the Kitty Snatchers!

Robert took a lot of amphetamines.


Robert subsequently overdosed and went to Cat Hell where he was forced into staring contests for all eternity!


They not only allowed him to stay awake against the hallowed forces of evil, they also gave unto him knowledge about the cats and their plans.


The Cat Illuminati got to work on sabotaging Robert’s supply of amphetamines; replacing them with NyQuil.


It was as if some higher being was giving him help.


It was clearly a cat playing the role of a double agent.


He was very, very grateful towards this higher being.


Big Pharma knows how to please it seems.


He often asked how he could ever repay him.


The higher being always asked for tree fiddy.


The conversation usually went something like this:

Robert: Oh great, magnificent God of all, however can I repay you?

Higher being: Mo' pills.

Robert: If you do insist, oh divine master.


Funny as this is: the script format is so stupid it ruins it. To anyone who wants to write a story, don’t use a script format unless you’re writing text exchanges or a script for a movie or animation of some sort.

And so Robert took quite a few pills, secure in the knowledge that if the cat ever encroached upon his personal safety, the higher being would smack it to death, probably with a large baseball bat.


The higher being then proceeded to beat Robert to death for not paying his debt.

However, one day, the Higher Being disappeared. Dissipated. Gone!




Robert was extremely uneasy.


He should’ve taken more pills then. Clearly the connection was strained by a lack of pills! PILLS!


He assumed that the cats had kidnapped the Higher Being using some sort of advanced technology.


Additional pylons must be constructed.


Coincidentally, slightly before this, he also ran out of pills.


Well, there’s your problem. You screwed up your dosage and took too few!

It was no good.


Rather, it was great! Go Team Cat!


Robert was addicted to the amphetamines.


Thanks, Captain Obvious. I would’ve never guessed.


He went to his usual dealer, Jacob, down the street, below the great oak tree.


Jacob fell on hard times after the end of Twilight.


Jacob, whilst handing over a bag, asked him what the problem was.


It was formal to ask an algebra question to make sure it was a sting.


"No problem," said Robert.


“Rather, many problems.”


"Well," Jacob said, "your eyes almost look like that of a cat's.


No new line for a new speaker. Even in a crackfic or trollpasta, this should be done. Sorry, but them’s the rules.


And your mustache looks strange, almost as if it's turning into cat whiskers."


Evidently, Robert hadn’t realized he’d shaved.


Robert ran all the way back home.


He then fell over Mr. Cuddles who’d followed him to Jacob.

Robert couldn't find a mirror.


Use a window then.


The only mirror he had was smashed by Mr. Cuddles a week ago.


Did Mr. Cuddles punch the mirror? Or was the mirror held up by scotch tape?


And even as Robert ran around the house, looking for a mirror, Mr. Cuddles followed him with what appeared to be a ghost of a smirk on his face.


Behind that ghost was a spooky skeleton.

Robert finally found a piece of jagged glass which had fallen off from the smashed mirror.


He never cleaned up the shards of glass? If he’s paranoid about Mr. Cuddles killing him, I’m shocked he didn’t throw the glass into a fire or something to make sure Cuddles wouldn’t shank him when he wasn’t looking.


"Yes," he thought as he stared hard at the glass, "those do look like cat eyes. And it looks as if I'm growing whiskers! I'm growing into a cat!"


This is actually the origin to the Fairly Odd Parents character of Cat Man.

Suddenly, in the glass flashed the image of Mr. Cuddles.


A new challenger approaches.


Robert looked behind him and screamed. Mr. Cuddles was right behind him, staring at him, as if saying, "Hahah, you're one of us, you're one of us!"


Indeed, the cat was silently taunting him and not just, I dunno, looking at his owner.

Oh, c’mon, silent judgement is something cats do all the time. You can’t tell me otherwise!




There’s nothing wrong with this moment. It’s so God awful, it’s brilliant.







Mr. Cuddles walked along the street, and went underneath the great oak tree, where he waited for a bit, until a black cat came along.


Stray cat strut I’m a ladies cat!

They both nodded and meowed to each other, conversing for a while, until, seemingly agreeing on something, they parted ways.


How did that conversation go?

“Meow.”

“Meow, meow.”


“Meow, meow?”


“MeeeeeOW!”

Mr. Cuddles went down the street to find a new owner, while the black cat looked around for a while, then, having made sure the street was empty, he closed his eyes and concentrated, causing his features to start morphing.


Animorphs! I remember those books!

His posture grew more upright, his fur disappeared, his eyes grew more angular, his nose became more defined, his whiskers shrank inwards.


In the whiskers place was a handlebar moustache that the man twirled.


And slowly, his features began to resemble that of a particular drug dealer whose body was found in the gutter a week ago, a man named Jacob.


Ah, I see: this is Pennywise before the next IT movie!


He took a packet of amphetamines out of his pocket and grinned.
Where exactly did the amphetamines go when he was a cat? In his fur? Into the fourth dimension?

-

(This story is credited to a person called Necronophore.)


Thank you for this, Necronophore.

I can't vouch for whether or not this story was meant to be taken seriously simply due to the fact there do exist stories like this that are intended to be serious in nature, but the author’s just that bad at writing. If it is meant to be taken serious: it’s awful and not scary in the slightest. On the flip side however, if it’s meant to be awful, then by God is it entertaining. It’s so ridiculous and silly that it’s hard for me to not say that I had a blast reading it. In the end, no matter what the intention was, beautiful absurdity far outweighs how awful it is as a genuine story. So I must confess that I loved it. Not much else to say, so have a great day!

1 comment:

  1. Tyler "Bio" RodriguezFebruary 10, 2019 at 6:51 PM

    Self aware murdering cats. Well that's easy to deal with. Rub its cheek and give it catnip and its already checkmate.

    ReplyDelete