What by the ever-loving Bast is that?? I stop mid-stride and stare, dropping my $7 coffee. Is a furry? With an mechanical tail? A memory springs to mind, from years ago.

We were in class. My idiot teacher, Mrs. Shankspoodle, wanted us to draw our future spouse. What seven year old knows what they want in a mate, let alone what a spouse was? Being the snarky lil ass that I was back then, I drew an anthropomorphic cat (well, bad drawing of a roughly humanoid figure with cat ears and a tail.) She stared at the picture, stared at me, and said something unintelligible before sending me out of the room. There was a parents meeting, yelling, and anyway, I was homeschooled after that.

But this figure before me. It was my drawing!! Not two dimensional, and a little more put together, but yes, an roughly humanoid cat person. Okay, what do I do now? Oh shit, he see me, and is walking closer. No where to run.

“Hello, Tara. I have been waiting for you,” he speaks, and with an Irish accent. “Who are you?” I inquire.

“Mr Whisker McMeowMeow,” he relies. Oh, yes, I did name that drawing. “Are you messing with me?” I ask.

“No, I was sent to you. I am your ideal mate. Let us whisk away to somewhere more...enticing.” With that statement, he flicked his tail, and I swear I heard purring.

“Umm, well, you see. I don’t mean to be rude, but how the hell do you exist? I drew you twenty years ago!”

“Yes, in Madame Shankspoodle’s class. You were far too young then for me, so the spell she casted was on a timeline. You obviously didn’t think she’s set up seven year olds?!”

“She was a witch? How did I miss that? Did she bring all the drawings to life?” This was freaking me out, to say the least. And my teacher, a witch? I knew I should have stayed in that class, damn my parents. What I could have learned...

“No, of course not. Everyone else drew normal picture and weren’t little shits. Madame was a powerful spell caster, but she hated snarky little kids. You should have done the assignment properly.”

“But then you wouldn’t be here,” I pointed out. He hadn’t considered this, it was obvious. “So, what do we do know?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Anything you want, I was created for you,” Mr Whisker replied, though I could tell he was started to question his own reality.

“Um. If I ask you to leave, you will?” I may have an out of this madness!! But no, it was not to be. Damn him. Damn Mr. Whisker McMeowMeow. He did it. He pulled the Puss-in-Boots cute ass cat look. There was no escape.

“Fine, you can stay. For now. No funny business, keep your paws to yourself. Let’s get coffee. And then beer. Lot of beer.”

“Lovely,” said he, clearly recovering from the sad cat look. “I’ll take my coffee with extra cream.”

Of course he will. I need to find Madame Shankspoodle. And learn some curses as well. And a vet?