Crop Circles

Science Fiction Ramblings

The Fable of Old Flat Head: Part Two

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So what if Satan got drunk and had sex with a cat?  The kittens run amok and kill everyone.  Voila!  Fluffy jellybeans and minions of darkness!  Doesn’t that perfectly sum up that cat meme?  What a great plot.  It’s cute, it’s violent.  I should write it. But wait, some guy named Pete Abrams already did that?  (http://www.sluggy.com/comics/archives/daily/000730).  Jeesh!  Every damn plot already exists!  Why bother!  And that’s why it took me six months to get back to this.  I get hung up on wanting to be unique instead of just writing and hoping for the best.  Granted, plagiarism is evil so I should leave out the whole Satan thing.  Let me meditate further on that picture.  Ohm.  Ohm.  All right.  It’s coming to me now.  The mama cat.  She’s the one with the story.  She’s the one with the expressive face.  The kittens are too young to have any agency.   So why would a cat be disappointed with her kittens?  Why would she want ‘minions of darkness’ anyway?  Revenge!  I’m onto something with that.  All I need to do is decide why a cat would want revenge.  This isn’t easy.   My entire family dotes on cats.  We talk to them like they’re babies, we switch foods if they don’t like something, we pet and praise them even if they’re shredding the furniture.   Dirty litter box?  A trip to the vet?  Nail caps?  At this point, I’m happy with the brainstorming.  I’m still picturing a funny little story.  Then something horrible comes bubbling up out of my subconscious.  When I was a teen, my mom worked part time as a home bound instructor for kids that had to miss school.  This was for physical and sometimes mental reasons.  A kid in the program buried a cat up to its neck and ran a lawnmower over its head.  It wasn’t one of my mom’s students.  She’d just heard that through the grapevine and passed it along.  My mom told me this.  My mom.  When I was like fifteen or something.  Hell.  Now all I can think about is what if that cat survived?  Along with the story, my subconscious has produced a title “The Fable of Old Flat Head”.  The word fable is in the title because my subconscious apparently likes consonance.  Now, I have to go running off to find out what exactly a fable is.  Oh, it’s a defined literary genre.  I’m getting literary now.  It’s a succinct fictional piece that uses anthropomorphized animals, plants, mythical objects etc. to convey a moral lesson.  I got a story, I got a form.  Next post, a draft and I discover that I don’t think I can write succinctly enough to make a fable.

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Author: KMolyneaux

Author, Knitter, ex-Academic

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