Post by Terranova on Oct 31, 2015 2:33:07 GMT
Garfield released a sigh, breath visible in the chilly, early, morning air. Finally--Finally, he was back home. Back to the place he was born… Mamma Leoni’s Italian Restaurant!
The tabby cat wrung his paws as he imagined the delicious lasagna waiting for him inside. Hot, gooey, cheesy lasagna…
Odie whined from his place beside him, interrupting the daydream.
“It’ll take twenty minutes,” he assured, “Jon will never know.”
Mamma Leoni’s lights were off, but he knew there would still be fresh food. The woman didn’t know how to go an hour without pulling something out the oven.
Odie whined again.
Garfield cut his eyes in the beagle’s direction. “Look, if you find a way inside, there’ll be some dog food in it for you. Just check ‘round back.”
The dog hesitated for a moment, gears turning painfully slow, before he leaped and bounded around the side of the restaurant in an excited stupor.
Garfield rolled his eyes. The stupid dog would do anything for processed cardboard… Meanwhile, he thought, sliding the welcome mat aside to discover a shiny golden key, I have a one-way ticket to the grand buffet.
The tabby cat unlocked the door and slipped soundlessly into the dining room. His mouth watered at the thought of the meal waiting for him just ahead. However, when he inhaled the air in the dining room, he was taken aback by the smell…
It didn’t smell like pasta, which seemed to have an adverse affect on his appetite…
Old people, he thought, This place smells like raisins and old people!
He narrowed his eyes at the tall, refurbished chairs. Who decided on green chairs? And who decided to replace all the pictures of Mamma, Papi, and Gran Gran!? And with a dog, nonetheless!?
Garfield continued his way through the dining room, weaving around tables until in was in sight of the kitchen.
Maybe Mamma Leoni had found herself a husband in all this time… Maybe the crazy cat lady was tamed by a man that liked big St. Bernards and green chairs… His nose crinkled in disgust… Naaa.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy plastic against hardwood flooring cut through the silence, followed by a terrified cry from Odie. Looked like he had found his way inside.
Garfield rolled his eyes. Odie must have knocked over the trash can. As many times as he had done that same thing at home, he was ALWAYS afraid. Stupid dog.
I’m not cleaning that up, he mentally added.
He pushed through the plastic swinging doors into the kitchen. It was just as he had remembered. Dried spices and cooking pans were hanging from hooks all around the room. What he hadn’t remembered, however, was the way the light shone through the back door… How it left ominous tree-like shadows swaying back and forth on the floor.
“Odie?” he mewed, immediately regretting the way it must have sounded. Like… Concern?
Wind whistled through the doggy door, catching the flap as to make the sound much louder than necessary in the eerie silence of the kitchen.
Doggy door? Garfield scrutinized, We never had one of those…
Closest to the door was a large pile of… Well, he couldn’t tell what it was. There was trash, the trash can itself, and something that had spilled across the hardwood floor. It looked like the restaurant had been built on an incline as the substance was spreading towards him.
Garfield’s paws became wet as he accidentally stepped in it to get a closer look. Is this… tomato sauce? he asked himself, almost forgetting about the situation in a moment of pure indulgence. He licked his paw… And immediately recoiled.
NOT TOMATO SAUCE! His brain screamed, Blood???
Was the blood… Odie’s?
Garfield unwillingly put his paws back down in the fresh blood and inched closer to the pile, heart racing far too fast for him to keep up. He pushed aside the plastic bin and kicked away some cans with his back leg.
Jon will skin me, he panicked, Jon will actually skin me if something happens to Odie…
Maybe he’ll sell me! Or worse, give me away for free! If Jon gave him to the little girl down the street, Garfield wouldn’t be able to go on. She’d feed him wet, canned slop and pull his tail. No cat deserves that horror!
Garfield reached the pile and swallowed hard. He reached through the trash until he felt something warm--something fuzzy.
“Odie?” he mewed again, this time too concerned to worry about his reputation. He tossed the trash aside so he could get a better look at the dog in the darkness. His fur was matted and wet, revealing an open wound on the thin skin of his neck. A bite…
Odie was… attacked…
Garfield’s blood ran cold and his hair prickled up against his will.
How had he not noticed the hot breeze in the air?
Or the scent of dog breath?
The whistling of the doggy door was drowned out by a low rumbling noise in the corner of the room. It was almost like… a growl...
The tabby cat slowly peered over his shoulder, eyes adjusting to the dark of the kitchen. The still-swaying shadows toyed with his peripheral vision.
A large creature took a single step forward… But it was enough for Garfield to identify it as a St.Bernard…
The one from Mamma Leoni’s photos...
Good doggy... Nice doggy... Garfield mentally bargained, You can have half of my lasagna…
Unfortunately, he knew the dog probably wanted more than half...
The St.Bernard continued the low growl, but remained frozen in place, waiting for Garfield to make the first move. His large jaws trembled in preparation, his face soaked with matted blood --Odie’s blood-- and about two liters of drool… It dripped onto the floor with a loud SPLAT.
Garfield glanced at the doggy door.
The St.Bernard somehow noticed and let out a massive bark.
And Garfield ran for it.
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/535/garfield
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/712/cujo
The tabby cat wrung his paws as he imagined the delicious lasagna waiting for him inside. Hot, gooey, cheesy lasagna…
Odie whined from his place beside him, interrupting the daydream.
“It’ll take twenty minutes,” he assured, “Jon will never know.”
Mamma Leoni’s lights were off, but he knew there would still be fresh food. The woman didn’t know how to go an hour without pulling something out the oven.
Odie whined again.
Garfield cut his eyes in the beagle’s direction. “Look, if you find a way inside, there’ll be some dog food in it for you. Just check ‘round back.”
The dog hesitated for a moment, gears turning painfully slow, before he leaped and bounded around the side of the restaurant in an excited stupor.
Garfield rolled his eyes. The stupid dog would do anything for processed cardboard… Meanwhile, he thought, sliding the welcome mat aside to discover a shiny golden key, I have a one-way ticket to the grand buffet.
The tabby cat unlocked the door and slipped soundlessly into the dining room. His mouth watered at the thought of the meal waiting for him just ahead. However, when he inhaled the air in the dining room, he was taken aback by the smell…
It didn’t smell like pasta, which seemed to have an adverse affect on his appetite…
Old people, he thought, This place smells like raisins and old people!
He narrowed his eyes at the tall, refurbished chairs. Who decided on green chairs? And who decided to replace all the pictures of Mamma, Papi, and Gran Gran!? And with a dog, nonetheless!?
Garfield continued his way through the dining room, weaving around tables until in was in sight of the kitchen.
Maybe Mamma Leoni had found herself a husband in all this time… Maybe the crazy cat lady was tamed by a man that liked big St. Bernards and green chairs… His nose crinkled in disgust… Naaa.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy plastic against hardwood flooring cut through the silence, followed by a terrified cry from Odie. Looked like he had found his way inside.
Garfield rolled his eyes. Odie must have knocked over the trash can. As many times as he had done that same thing at home, he was ALWAYS afraid. Stupid dog.
I’m not cleaning that up, he mentally added.
He pushed through the plastic swinging doors into the kitchen. It was just as he had remembered. Dried spices and cooking pans were hanging from hooks all around the room. What he hadn’t remembered, however, was the way the light shone through the back door… How it left ominous tree-like shadows swaying back and forth on the floor.
“Odie?” he mewed, immediately regretting the way it must have sounded. Like… Concern?
Wind whistled through the doggy door, catching the flap as to make the sound much louder than necessary in the eerie silence of the kitchen.
Doggy door? Garfield scrutinized, We never had one of those…
Closest to the door was a large pile of… Well, he couldn’t tell what it was. There was trash, the trash can itself, and something that had spilled across the hardwood floor. It looked like the restaurant had been built on an incline as the substance was spreading towards him.
Garfield’s paws became wet as he accidentally stepped in it to get a closer look. Is this… tomato sauce? he asked himself, almost forgetting about the situation in a moment of pure indulgence. He licked his paw… And immediately recoiled.
NOT TOMATO SAUCE! His brain screamed, Blood???
Was the blood… Odie’s?
Garfield unwillingly put his paws back down in the fresh blood and inched closer to the pile, heart racing far too fast for him to keep up. He pushed aside the plastic bin and kicked away some cans with his back leg.
Jon will skin me, he panicked, Jon will actually skin me if something happens to Odie…
Maybe he’ll sell me! Or worse, give me away for free! If Jon gave him to the little girl down the street, Garfield wouldn’t be able to go on. She’d feed him wet, canned slop and pull his tail. No cat deserves that horror!
Garfield reached the pile and swallowed hard. He reached through the trash until he felt something warm--something fuzzy.
“Odie?” he mewed again, this time too concerned to worry about his reputation. He tossed the trash aside so he could get a better look at the dog in the darkness. His fur was matted and wet, revealing an open wound on the thin skin of his neck. A bite…
Odie was… attacked…
Garfield’s blood ran cold and his hair prickled up against his will.
How had he not noticed the hot breeze in the air?
Or the scent of dog breath?
The whistling of the doggy door was drowned out by a low rumbling noise in the corner of the room. It was almost like… a growl...
The tabby cat slowly peered over his shoulder, eyes adjusting to the dark of the kitchen. The still-swaying shadows toyed with his peripheral vision.
A large creature took a single step forward… But it was enough for Garfield to identify it as a St.Bernard…
The one from Mamma Leoni’s photos...
Good doggy... Nice doggy... Garfield mentally bargained, You can have half of my lasagna…
Unfortunately, he knew the dog probably wanted more than half...
The St.Bernard continued the low growl, but remained frozen in place, waiting for Garfield to make the first move. His large jaws trembled in preparation, his face soaked with matted blood --Odie’s blood-- and about two liters of drool… It dripped onto the floor with a loud SPLAT.
Garfield glanced at the doggy door.
The St.Bernard somehow noticed and let out a massive bark.
And Garfield ran for it.
Can Garfield survive?
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/535/garfield
electricferret.freeforums.net/thread/712/cujo
