I spent the morning cleaning my apartment after a friend of some friends and a semi friend of mine was brought to my place for overnight care while Dr. J. Daniels’ evil fluids were eliminated from his body. Alcohol is a lot like Ebola in the way that you cannot cure the disease, you just have to treat the symptoms while it runs its course. Most of the cleaning was dedicated towards vacuuming popcorn off of my floor because we needed something to eat while his snoring and puking entertained us. Another sign that I am an asshole is that the only time I find hate speech as being hilarious is when it is written on a person that has drunk themself unconscious. I’m sure he came up with a creative way to explain the Swastikas on his body and “Jews = Lose” on his forearm at work today, and of course I used a permanent marker. A fun thing to do to drunk people that pass out in my apartment is to draw Swastikas all over their face with a permanent marker, and then leave the marker next to the bathroom sink. So when they are trying and failing at washing the hate symbols off of their face, they realize that they could cover up the Swastikas with more marker, and it’s debatable whether being covered in Swastikas or wearing blackface is more racially offensive. It’s like my own version of “Saw”.

 

That isn’t what I want to talk about though. I want to talk about a homeless cat that was once a very dear friend of mine but became one of my mortal enemies. I haven’t seen the rat bastard in years but I saw him roaming the street a block away last night and I saw him again this morning as he was pacing back and forth in my driveway, making eye contact with me the entire time. I ran inside and grabbed the same snow shovel that had cast the little shit from my apartment only 2, or maybe it was like 3 years ago.

 

I am a highly social person when I drink. I talk constantly while drinking alcohol, even when I am alone. A few years ago I was enjoying an ice-cold glass of Rich & Rare out on the stoop and a scrappy piss-yellow transient tabby cautiously walked up to me. Being talkative when I drink, I meowed at him until he decided to join me. I told this cat everything. I told this cat things about myself that I wouldn’t reveal during water boarding and for some reason the cat sat about 3 feet away and listened to every word. After a few hours I told the cat, “Goodnight, I love you, God bless you, don’t let the bed bugs bite, sweet dreams, goodnight, I love you with all my heart.” And I went to bed.

 

Well a few nights later I was once again drinking on the stoop and telling the mailbox about the time I peed on an electric fence as a kid, when the same little cat strolled up to me again. I was so happy to have a new friend that I went inside and got a can of albacore tuna for him. Not shitty cheap grey tuna, but pricey albacore tuna. He ate while I drank and told him my problems to see if he had any solutions, and his only response would be to look me right in the eyes whenever I stopped talking.

 

I would tell him something like, “You know, for having my own apartment right next to campus I should be getting a lot more ass.”

 

And he would stop eating and look me right in the eyes. It was as if he was implying that it was entirely my fault for rarely getting laid.

 

I would ramble off, “Christ almighty cat, inflation is getting out of control.”

 

Once again the cat would stop eating and look me in the eyes, implying that it was partially my fault because I was too lazy to go vote during the previous election.

 

He never purred a word, he never meowed a meow, but he always answered with his eyes. And the answer was an implication of everything being my fault, every time. This is how he earned the name Vlad the Implier.

 

So Vlad and I held nightly rendezvouses on the porch until the weather got too cold for me and his sorry ass still had to stay outside. So one night during the winter, it was sub zero temperatures and I was taking the garbage can down to the curb in my bathrobe at 3:00AM, and there was Vlad the Implier sitting on the porch waiting for me. I felt horrible for having ignored him for so long so I brought out another can of albacore tuna for him to eat in front of my door while I watched him through the window because I fucking hate the cold. He finished the tuna and I opened the door to throw the empty can in the trash, and as soon as I opened the door he ran inside my apartment. At the time there was a strict no animal policy in my decadent basement apartment, but I figured fuck it, he can spend one night at my place.

 

So Vlad the Implier made himself comfortable in my miniature weight room and I told him, “Goodnight, I love you, God bless you, don’t let the bed bugs bite, sweet dreams, goodnight, I love you with all my heart.” And I closed his door and went to bed.

 

In the morning I opened the door to my miniature weight room to find a few scattered cat turds and Vlad was gone. I looked everywhere for him and eventually found him nestled in the little storage space under my stairs. I just smiled and giggled at little Vlad as I reached out a hand to help him get out. Well the little fucker bit me! I yelled at him for a second before running to my laptop to look up ‘can cats get rabies?’ and then after I felt sure that Vlad didn’t have rabies I returned to give him a good talking to.

 

I screamed at Vlad, telling him to get the fuck out of my apartment. I explained to him that there was a strict no pet policy in my apartment and he just stared back at me with those eyes, implying that this whole situation was my fault. “Oh no asshole, you’re not pinning this one on me. Get out!”

 

But he just stared back at me, crushing me with self-blame. “Whatever dude”, and I closed the door to the mini weight room and went to class.

 

After class I grabbed a broom and went to the little nook under the stairs. Vlad the Implier went absolutely ape shit whenever I tried to force him out. “Whatever dude”, and I closed the door and went to bed.

 

The next day after class, I went to the door of my baby weight room and opened it. Vlad the Implier bolted between my legs and ran into my kitchen. I cornered him between the microwave and the sink and prodded him with a broomstick until I thought of a plan. I figured, oh, I’ll just grab him and throw him outside really quick. So I grabbed him and Vlad turned into the fucking Tasmanian Devil and tore my hands and forearms apart in a tornado of teeth and claws. I threw him against the wall and he ran into my living room.

 

I devised a plan to lure him outside with a can of albacore tuna. I opened a can of tuna and waved it in front of him. Once again he went nuts and clawed at me. Fucking traitor. I got so pissed off that I loaded my BB caliber handgun and pointed it at him. I didn’t know if it would be strong enough to kill him but I knew that it would be strong enough to make him hate his life. I pointed it right at his face and again, those eyes stared back at me. Implying that my problems will only worsen as long as I resort to violence as a solution. I put the gun back on top of my fridge and tried with the tuna again.

 

I placed the tuna in the hallway where he could see it. After a few minutes he slowly approached the tuna, so I moved the can to the bottom of the stairs. Then I moved it to the top of the stairs… and then I placed it outside the door with the door propped open. Vlad just stared at the can of tuna sitting outside but he refused to go out the door. It felt like a brisk -25 degrees outside so I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to leave at that moment. But he just stared at the can, and I waited.

 

After a few minutes I reached for the snow shovel next to the door. I moved ever so slowly so Vlad wouldn’t notice my movements. After I had the shovel in my hands, I placed it behind him and whispered a threat. “Vlad, get the fuck out of my apartment or I am going to launch you into fucking orbit.”

 

Vlad the Implier didn’t even flinch at my warning. So I quickly scooped him up into the snow shovel, ran outside, and catapulted him across the lawn. Of course he landed on his feet because that’s what cats do, but he ran off screeching like a little bitch. For a while after that I saw Vlad on or near the campus, just looking at me with those eyes. After about a year I didn’t see him anymore. But now he’s back and I know it’s him because of that douche bag look he gives me. I make sure my door is shut tight every time I take out the trash and I’m glad that I won’t be here next summer where I could be drinking on the porch and fall prey to Vlad’s charm again.

 

That’s a really long story and the only people I’ve ever told it to are Birdman and Hans. I don’t know why I’ve never thought that having a stray cat running wild in my apartment for 48 hours was all that interesting, but Hans brought it up after Furniture class the other day and it’s a really strange coincidence to start seeing Vlad the Implier lurking around my apartment again. If Vlad makes a move on my apartment again I’m going to decapitate him with my snow shovel, but I know I’ll drop my shovel and cower when he looks at me with those eyes