It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, maybe it wasn't so stormy. Actually there weren't any clouds. And maybe not so dark as there was a half moon that bathed the fields in a silver sheen. But I didn't care. I was running - again - trying to get as far away from Mr. and Mrs. Neanderthal. My gut was still doing colon coughs and I must have sounded like a 5hp Briggs Stratton with a loose spark plug. After a few minutes, I stopped and crouched in the tall weeds, listening if they were following me. Nothing. Except one last tremendous fart which left me standing in my own crop circle.
Nobody was following. At least not through the sulfur trail.
I decided to keep walking - if I was moving I'd be a harder target. Maybe. I still had to take a leak but I wanted to be sure it was safe before I did. And it didn't seem all that safe here. In the distance I could hear crickets and frogs and a foghorn and Celine Deion music. I kept walking. After a few minutes I could make out a large, dark shape looming ahead of me. It appeared to be a house and as I got closer I confirmed it. But it wasn't any house I had ever seen before. It was built like small boxes on top of each other, kind of like those new flats in Upplands Vasby. A monkey with a hammer could have done better. By the light of the moon, I found a door on one of the cubicles. I opened it cautiously.
Inside it was dark except for the light of a lone candle. I could see the place was dirty and dusty with chairs and tables and a few couches. And soccer balls. Hundreds of them all around the place. On the floor, the chairs, even a few hanging from the ceiling. They were covered in dust and I could barely see the name brands. Not that it mattered. The balls that were hanging cast strange shadows from the lone candle across the room and they moved with each flicker. Except one shadow. It moved without aid of the light.
"All of my cats have names."
The shadow spoke with a grizzled voice that I could tell was aged.
"Is that what they're called -- cats?" I said, straining to see who was talking.
"Yes, cats, of course. What else could they be? Cats. Of course each one has his own name too." it said and moved into the thin light. He was an old man, covered in a bedsheet with tuffs of blue-grey hair poking out in patches. He was so shriveled I thought he had taken a 5 hour bath. One more wrinkle and he'd pass for a prune. A blotched hand reached down and started stroking one of the soccer balls.
"But there are so many of them. Do you know each one separately?" I asked, and wanted to smile. He seemed harmless unless he dropped the bedsheet. I had a feeling that he believed that a blood vessel was some kind of ship.
"Yes indeed, everyone. Actually,they all have three." he said, "The naming of cats is a difficult matter. It isn't just one of your holiday games. You may think at first I'm mad as a hatter when I tell you a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES."
He took a breath.
"An ordinary name and a fancy name. That's two. Do you want to guess what the third one is?"
I was speechless. Maybe he wasn't so harmless. I started to glance around for a weapon.
"But above and beyond there's still one name left over, And that is the name that you never will guess; The name that no human research can discover -- - But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess." he reached down and started stroking another soccer ball on a table, "Will you, my pet?"
It rolled off the table and onto the floor, joining a thousand others.
"Why did you go little fourpaws? You forgot to shut your big eyes." and he closed his eyes for a moment; then, "I have a Gumble Cat in mind!"
Here we go again, I thought and was hoping for a fast way out. I wasn't about to last another minute with Einstein the Cat Professor. I had to pee! I tried to switch gears.
"How long have you been living here?" I asked.
"For as long as I can remember." he answered without looking at me, just following the balls on the floor.
"How did you get here?"
"I have always been here..." he said.
"Are there any other humans?"
"Gracious...no." he answered, as if it was a stupid question. Like he would know the difference.
"Have any other people ever passed through?" I tried to watch out stepping on the soccer balls and looked for a phone or anything that I could contact civilization with. Or a bathroom.
"Only one." he said and sat down with a dust cloud into an easy chair. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the picture of Lucky his sisters had given me.
"Who was it? Did they look like this?" I asked, not expecting a positive answer. But miracles will never cease.
"Yes...oh, my...that was him." he said and picked up a ball and started stroking it. Obscenely.