Kiki the Cat


The only thing the burglar loved more than money was murder. The feeling left him with a certain euphoria he’d never managed to replicate through any other means, and since he’d finished his prison sentence he’d been yearning to take another shot at it.

He looked at the picture frame, and it left little doubt as to whom the apartment belonged to – a short girl with brown hair and freckles. An easy kill, if he had to do it. He put the picture frame back down, and continued to look for more jewelry, pulling out one drawer after another. To his surprise, the door knob began to turn. The burglar picked up his handgun and rushed to find a hiding spot.

* * *

Sylvia finished turning the handle and entered her apartment. “Kiki, I’m home!”

Kiki was the name of her cat. It was the coolest of kitties, never one to startle in the face of stranger danger. It’s primary interest was to sleep, so Sylvia did not find it the least bit surprising when her cat didn’t run up to her right away.

What did catch her off guard, however, was that much of her furniture had been displaced. It appeared as though her apartment had been ransacked. After some more inspection, Sylvia found her favorite articles of jewelry were missing, including one special necklace given to her by her grandmother.

Sylvia slipped her phone from her pocket and began to dial 911. Before pressing send, however, a burdening thought got the better of her. Sylvia dialed her grandmother instead.

“Yes dear, what is it?”

There was a noise, someone or something in the room had moved. Sylvia thought she heard it coming from her windowsill, behind the curtains. She slowly and cautiously began creeping towards it.

“Grandma, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What is it dear?”

“Your necklace. The one you wore on your wedding day, the one that you gave me for my birthday?”

“Yes, I remember. What of it?”

Sylvia began to cry. As she continued forward, she could swear the curtains were more bloated than usual. Tears filled her eyes. “Grandma, somebody stole it! I kept it hidden in my top drawer, and hardly ever wore it except on special-“

“Oh, don’t think twice about it,” said her grandmother, followed by a weary chuckle. “Let it be not the least of your concern… Tell me you contacted the authorities already though, right dear?”

Sylvia held the curtain with one hand, then stopped short of flapping it open. “No. I feel really guilty… I thought I should call you first.”

“Dear!” shouted her grandmother. “Are you crazy? If somebody broke into your apartment, for the love of God, call the police!”

“I was going to next!”

Something moved behind the curtain. Sylvia was sure of it.

“What if the burglar is still in there, darling? Call the authorities!”

“Ok,” Sylvia said, meekly. She pressed the red ‘end’ button on her smart phone. Rather than dial 911, she was too taken in by whatever waited for her on the other side of that curtain.

Sylvia slowly set the phone down on the nearby table, then held her breath as she prepared to uncover whatever waited behind that curtain. She knew deep down that grabbing a weapon or even a blunt instrument would be the smartest thing to do, but she was too impulsive a person to take precautions, even in the most dire of situations.

Sylvia gulped, then pulled away the curtain.

“Ahh!” She screamed, then fell back.

Her cat, Kiki, had just pounced out at her. She smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God… It’s just you, Kiki.”

“Die bitch!”

Sylvia turned, but it was already too late. The burglar fired the bullet, and the last image Sylvia saw before she passed was his handgun pointed down at her.

 The End!

  • Thomas M. Watt

And the Liebster Award Goes to…


1.) Where do good ideas come from?

2.) Five minutes with any celebrity – who would it be and what would you say?

3.) Who is your favorite writer, and why?

4.) What is more important for authors today – being an artist or having networking skills?

6.) Would you rather have great sex or an avid readership?

7.) You are walking down the street and see the most awful sight you could ever imagine. What is it?

8.) The life of a writer – Blessed or burdened?

9.) SpongeBob SquarePants or television news?

10.) Tell us about your most current book or WIP –

  • Give me the title and a quick pitch.
  • Why are you in love with this idea?
  • What am I going to get out of this, as a reader?

And the award for this years, 2013 Liebster goes to…

1.) Misha Burnett – Exceptionally smart and a true recluse. Wrote, “Catskinner’s Book,” a science fiction/urban fantasy novel.

2.) Adrienne Morris from Middlemay Farm – Gifted writer and nostalgia fanatic. Winner of the Editors’ Choice award for, “The House on Tenafly Road.”

3.) Kevin Brown – Writes with directness and purpose to each and every word. Published close to 200 articles for Examiner.

4.) Christine Keleny –  Writer, reader, author, and publisher. She’s most famous for writing the entire Rose trilogy, and runs CK Books. Her blog is a must-follow for any aspiring author.

5.) Ayse Juaneda – Her paintings are legendary. Genius. Beautiful. Best artist in the world? I think so.

Congratulations to all you award winners! Answer my questions and nominate the bloggers who you think are deserving. Fill out your own list of questions, then spread the Liebster love by announcing your own winners.

Me and the Tiger Cub : )


Hum hum humty hum,

Little tiger meet my thumb!

Roh-ho Doh minoe,

Testy temper never know!

Ya-do, do-a-de,

What’s that tiger you had bad day?

E-oh A ha he,

Little tiger mad at me!

Yo-ho de doh goh,

Bites off my finger chews on his tongue!

Nah-ne! He back-us-tee!

The black striped feline is still hun-gray!

Ah! AH! Ah no no NO!

Tiger coming, tiger goes!

Shit! Shit! Shit SHIT SHIT!!

Tiger bites not very nice!

Ahh gah ghareaoushgovaund

Tiger just bit off my whole head.

– Thomas M. Watt

Boring Story Teller Guy

ImageInt.  – Dinner table. Bob, who has a horseshoe of baldness atop his head, a grey beard and glasses, is talking to McWatty9.


So the transcript came through and Barbara and I well, we just sort of read it, and then we re-read it, and then we both smiled at each other and held hands as we reassured our love for one another.


Uh-huh. Uh-huh.


And then wouldn’t you know it, the dog started barking. Heh! That dog, you know that dog is always barking. I love that dog. So does Barbara. We bathe it twice a week, you know.




Yea, we always keep that dog well fed. Feed it kibble and beans, you know. A lot of people don’t know what kibble and beans is, but that’s just because I was sitting in my lawn chair one day, thinking up names of dog food that would seem to make sense, you know, in case I ever wanted to sell dog food one day.


(Pounding head into table) Uh-huh. Uh-huh.


That’s what I like to do, you know. I like to sit around in my lawn chair and think about stuff. Sometimes I pull my dictionary out, then look up words no one uses and write them down. I try to find a pivotal moment in conversation to use them, you know, so I can look smarter than I actually am.


(Leaning back in his chair, tilting way too far, waving his arms, falling over, chair breaks, lying on the floor with his arms out wide) Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Wow, that sounds pretty smart.


Yeah, you  know, it’s something i started doing in my younger days. If you ever want to outsmart someone, especially in an argument, just throw something out there they’ve never even heard of before. I always get a good chuckle about it later, when I’m by myself. Sometimes I like to laugh while I pet my dog. I don’t know why, it’s just this thing we do together. Sometimes, when her lips curl up and her tongue wags outside of her mouth, I like to think she’s laughing right along with me.


(Picking up broken pieces of wood, bashing them against side of head) Uh-huh. Interesting.


You know, a lot people don’t know this but, I’m sort of a dog lover. Yes, yes, I know, tough old Bob, they call me. But it isn’t entirely true. Sometimes, when my dog is urinating, I like to pet it.


(Standing up, walking to cupboard, smashing face repeatedly into cupboard.) Uh-huh. Yeah. Wow. Interesting. uh-huh.


Heh. Mangy mutts. That’s what some people call them. I never could understand how someone could not like a dog. They’re so loving and kind. Really fascinating creatures. Not like cats. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I don’t really care too much for cats.


(Doing a headstand, pushing off of his head in a headstand push-up, slamming his head repeatedly into the tile floor) Uh-huh. Really? Interesting. Wow. Uh-huh.


Yeah, because cats don’t care as much to get pet, you know. Cats like to keep to themselves, nothing like dogs. Cats are nothing like dogs, you know. They’re so skinny too. Wimps, I say.


(Returning to his feet, walking over to the table, jumping on the table, making snow angels on the table) Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Crazy. Fascinating. Tell me more. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.


As a matter of fact, did you know that cats always land on their feet? I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s true! Did you know that?


(Standing up on table, jumping for chandelier, catches chandelier, chanderlier snaps off from chain, Mcwatty9 falls and breaks table, head is bleeding. Paramedics arrive, take McWatty9 out on a stretcher, put him in an ambulance. Bob rides alongside.)


Yeah, cats I don’t like very much. I never really knew why, but even as a kid, it was always about dogs for me.


(Dying slowly) Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Keep going. Tell me more. Uh-huh. Fascinating. Uh-huh. Riveting. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.


will never come for people who like to hear themselves talk.