Weapons of Mass Catastrophe

[myrgthful]

I dimly felt Sputnik walking over me in the dark, springing off my collarbone and onto the floor. Usually, he sleeps on my feet, in the nook of my armpit, or on my chest, and will find the most convenient way out/down. This time, he decided to run over me. I'd protest, but I'm a lump on my couch. It's four in the morning. I turn over.
     And then, I hear it:


     glick...

...glick-gurk...
     "Mmmfutnik?"

...glick-glick-glick... glick-GURK-glick...
     "Mmmfaaawwww CRAP!"
     I start scrambling to get up.
     ...GLICK-GLURK-HORNK-HORNK-BLEARGH!!!

"Oh, of all that's-"
     I'm looking for a light. Any light.
     ...glick-gurk...
     (He's moved to a different location -- I can hear it.)
     ...glick-glick-GURK-HORNK...
     At this point, I'm ready to start burning furniture so I can see what's going on. And for that, a chair trips me in the dark. I go down, and feel something warm and gooey on my arm.
     Eeeeewwwww.....
     ...HORNK-HORNK-BLEARGH!!!
     I put my head down on the carpet. Maybe it's over.

ick-urgh...deep breath...
     "Sputnik!"
     I shove off the floor and grab my phone. It gives me enough light to see in the utter black, and the chase begins.
     Sputnik is retching on the move now-- no light talent.
     ...glick...glick-glick!...
     "Damnit, CAT! STAY. IN. ONE. PLACE!!!"
     I wonder if you can train cats to use litter boxes for this, I think to myself, as I round another chair.
     ...glurk-glick-glurk-GLURK...
     He pauses over some books I'd left on the floor, next to my computer.
     "Oh NO you- "
     BLEEEEEAAAARRRRGGGGGHHH!!!!!!
     "... don't?"
     UGH.
     How can ONE CAT puke out THAT MUCH STUFF? He's like Mary Poppin's magic bag!


     I snap out of it, and start chasing him again: I sooo want to hurl him out the door right now! I have an image in my head of Sputnik, mid-flight, his limbs and toes in a flailing sprawl as he tries to gain purchase on air molecules.
     Sputnik feels me coming. Probably the death-rays lancing from my eyes. He lightly dances away. I recklessly speed up. He makes a break for the space behind the couch, jinks right, then leaps! ...arcing... to land gracefully, right in the middle of my bedding.
     "Mrawr?"
     He affects the most innocent little, "Who me??? I've been right here all along!" look. I can only be incredulous.
     Of all the freaking...! *sigh*
     I growl something in uffish Caveman, stomping off to get some paper towels.

If you ever thought cats are lower-maintenance than dogs, or children... think twice.

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