56 comments

Fiction Horror Funny

“I know you think I’m crazy, but I’ve found myself.”


He’d gone over and was in real trouble; I mean Jack Nicholson Shining trouble. And when he said crazy I heard a whisper in my ear—you are NOT a trained psychologist. Yes, beyond my capability to help, way beyond.


Yet, I grew up with my kid brother; I took care of him all the way through high school. Our dad worked at the mill double time, and Mom passed when we were both kids. So it was up to me, Dad said, when he wasn’t around, which was always. It was the little things I remembered more than the bad stuff: making James pancakes with blueberry syrup, packing him up with his Spiderman lunch box, dropping him at school. Hang in there kid. But this cat thing? The best approach was tread lightly.


And now the Brooklyn apartment showed worrying signs. The dishes piled up were actually crusty, clothes were discarded on the floor, and the walls were bare. The window (only one) was covered with what looked like tar paper. When night came, I saw why—the motel across the way blinked ‘VACANCY’ in red letters, a pink glow pulsated into the room. Yes. tread lightly.


So I said, “I don’t think you’re exactly crazy. What does crazy even mean James? I do think you need to see someone.”


James didn’t give me a response. He rose from the dirty white sheet covering the couch, strolled to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. The white interior light spilled out, his face blank. He was a tall man, powerfully built. And then seeing his arm muscle ripple as he drank from a half-gallon milk carton, his neck muscles flexing with each gulp, it brought back how he moved when we were young. Graceful. An athlete. He finished the carton and tossed it in the sink.


And what exactly was it with the cats? He’d never really told me. Dodged the question. Four, no, six: one on the couch, was that a Siamese with all four legs sprawled out (how do they even do that?), a tabby at the window ignoring me looking like a baby lion, a poofy gray by the door grooming disgustingly, a black in the liter box with his (why his?) back arched. The hairs on my arms tickled.


I’d never known my brother to have pets and now, what was he, not a cat lady but a cat man? And the landlord? Do they even allow pets? A tawney with a white diamond on his chest rubbed my right calf as it moved against me, padded by, then turned and moved back against my leg again.


My brother came back to the end of the couch and sat on the arm. He looked like he did back when we were kids; the time he confessed about stealing all the Christmas tree lights in the neighborhood; just a prank, but the police brought him home. He had the ‘I’m guilty and nobody knows this but you, and especially don’t tell Dad’ look.


He said, “I went to this woman a year ago when all this started. She told me I was depressed. But I don’t feel depressed.”


Best to get it out on the table I thought at the time. “But James. Let’s be real. A metamorphoses of some kind? You are not, I repeat, NOT turning into some kind of cat. That’s ridiculous.”


“I am though.”


So now my brother was telling me he’s turning into a cat. And that smell! Sour, warm, the odor of sand mixed with urine, permeating. He did look tired. Really tired. Bags under his eyes, a white pallor to his skin. Maybe it’s best to just keep this till morning. I’ll take him to breakfast. No, get up early and clean the kitchen, go out for eggs and fixin’s and bring it back. Like I used to when we were kids. How does it go? Everything looks better with a good nights sleep. “It’s late. We can talk about it tomorrow.”


He nodded agreement. Little did I know. “You’ve got the couch. I’ll get you a blanket.”


“Thanks brother,” I said, thinking we could maybe get back to just being brothers, when we were both sane.


James brought a blanket and pillow for the couch.


“How 'bout we have breakfast tomorrow? I’ll make you pancakes like I used to.”


“Sure. Morning then.”


I made up my bed on the couch, stripped down, picked up the pillow he gave me, smelled it, set it back on the floor, then rolled up my jeans to rest my head on. Yes. Tomorrow we’ll figure this out. As I settled in, the tabby jumped on my feet and curled up. Must like the warmth. A gray cat I hadn’t seen before rested on the back of the couch, another on the arm, a third lay under the coffee table. Cats. Who would have guessed my brother would be a cat person? I drifted off.


***

I woke at two-fifteen. Going down the hall to use the bathroom I saw the door to my brother’s bedroom barely cracked. A computer monitor glowed at his desk; his dark back was hunched in the chair. Playing computer games in the middle of the night? I peeked through the paint-chipped door; it’s none of my business really, and I was careful not to jostle the door.


What is this, Rosemary’s Baby? He was on his computer; there were no lights on, but one candle burned with wax piled on the desk, just the screen glow and one candle flickering in the dim light. He was wearing headphones, but it was seeing him in the hood that spiked my anxiety with an 'uh oh'. He wore a shiny black hood pulled up over his head, like a slicker. The edges on each side pointed up above his ears—and he was staring in the screen with a low throated hum. I could see he was on Zoom or something. Six screens looked back at him, six hoods with faces under them, six sets of eyes in their monitor's reflection, peering out white from under hoods. Maybe it’s a computer game, I was thinking, hoping, doubting. Bring it up at breakfast. Tread lightly. I stepped back from the door and almost fell, a cat tripped me up between my legs. A quick meow and it padded off. This is out of control. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we need to talk.


The hairs are what woke me, brushing against my lips, bristling, twitching. I opened my eyes and two green-evil orbs glowed at me, so close I could see blooded veins, feral looking eyes above a snout, sniffing my face, the nose crinkling, the room strobing in the pink light. My elbow lashed out, a reflex reaction, and I knocked the cat away, a dead hit, flipping it through the air. It landed on its feet, turned back, crouched, hair straight up on its back, sharp white teeth in a snarling maw, a low growling. A claw swiped across my face, a weight thudded into my chest, claws dragged down my belly. I could feel warm blood dripping down past my rib cage. As I rose, full strength, in a panicked scream (who wouldn’t?) a dark figure fell on me, pinning my arms to the couch. James’ white-gray sweating face was right in front of me, his garlic breath, his eyes dead. For no reason, I remembered for a second when we were kids, him big enough to pin me down with his legs on my arms, letting his spit drip slowly onto my forehead, my mouth, letting the drips hesitate, then fall one by one, taking his time. Brothers.


But this was different. This was not playtime. The biggest black cat I’d ever seen, six feet if an inch crouched in next to him. Sure, I know you're asking. Six feet? Maybe I was out of it by then. Maybe. James put the open palm of his hand across my forehead and held my head steady, his elbow hard against my shoulder. The huge cat leaned in; a foul rotten milk smell struck me. I gagged. The snout got closer; James held tighter. From the throat of a black muzzle came a vibrating hum rising in pitch, nostrils flaring, excited. And then it was just the cat. I flailed my legs, tried to spiral my body, and could tell I was kicking cats. I could feel the bodies, them springing back with their claws in my naked calf, my thighs. I could smell the fever, a rotten jungle humid rot. Cats were all around me then, squealing their frenzy, like fighting for fresh meat. And then a matted, quivering, slimy fur was on my mouth, around my mouth, and pressing in, tighter, tighter still, a hollow rushing sound as I realized the air was being sucked out of my lungs. I was coughing, gasping, hacking to get a breath. But there was no breath and I was held tight. I tried to pull in air but the force was pulling, pulling, out my lungs. I know I passed out. I thought I was gone and welcomed it to be honest.


***

It was daylight when I woke. The tar paper was off the window and sunlight poured in. I was lying on the couch and James was sitting by my side gently dabbing the claw marks on my body with a tissue. He dipped the blooded tissue in the water, squeezed, rinsed, wiped a little more.


“Some of these may need stitches,” he said. “Let’s just keep a compress on them and keep a watch for a day or two.” He threw a white cloth onto my chest. Two cats at the far end of the couch, a gray and a black, stared at me with slowly blinking eyes.


I tried to get up. James quickly took his index finger and pointed up, like saying a quick ‘no no’. I tried harder and an empty feeling in my chest hit me. For a second I couldn’t get air. Then it eased.


“Let’s not get frisky,” James said. “Not till we have an understanding you and I.”


When he said 'you and I' he glanced quickly at me, like it hurt to look in my eyes. It was long enough though and I didn’t need a psychology degree. The James I had known, the brother I raised, the innocent kid who stole Christmas decorations, was gone. In his place was this thing. Or maybe I was crazy? If I wasn’t crazy why couldn’t I just get up and leave? Why, with just a raise of his finger, could he suck the air out of my lungs? I’ve thought about that for a long time.”


James leaned in and sniffed around my ears. He whispered, “so what do cat people like you do with cats?”


“I don’t know, James, what do they do?” I was exhausted.


“Jamsey is my name. Call me Jamsey. Cat people take care of cats, ’s what they do. And you are going to take care of me.”


James handed me a vanilla file of all things. "Here are all my cat needs." He opened the file like his Christmas list when we were kids. "For me and my friends: blue, not white balls of yarn, a Goody Box Springtime Toys and Treats Basket, and here, the exact brand of milk we need. We're lactose intolerant. Well, it’s all in there. My bank and routing numbers and weekly draft amounts. Yes, it’s all in there.”


“What if I don’t want to?” My chest was emptied. I gagged. I struggled for air like being hung with a rope. Then it eased up.


From nowhere, the gray cat jumped on my chest with a half-eaten dead mouse in its teeth, the smell acidic, bitter, putrid.


“Oh, Tommy loves you! He’s bringing you a gift. He’s so proud. You should be honored.” The cat dropped the dead mouse on my neck. It was wet. “Now what is it cats don’t do? It’s an easy answer.”


“I don’t know. You tell me.” Something collapsed in my mind. I just let go, ok with whatever he wanted. At some point you know who you are. At moment, right then, I knew who I was. A cat person.


James picked up the tawney and stroked his head between his ears. “They don’t work. They lie in the sun, they eat, they defecate, they ruin your couch with their scratching. But what they don’t do is work. For that we have cat people. And YOU are a cat person. When you get back from your shopping get the place tidied up, empty the litter, you know. Pay particular attention to the hair balls under the bathroom sink I noticed. Don’t bother me. I will be napping on the roof in the sun.”

March 01, 2023 04:06

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56 comments

Graham Kinross
03:32 Jan 09, 2024

“Jack Nicholson Shining trouble,” I like that description. You don’t even have to have seen the film to know that’s bad. I can’t tell if you’re a cat person yourself or not but I’m guessing no. This was weird. I can see the appeal of living like a cat though. They usually seem at least satisfied with life, that would be good. I don’t understand the thing with the hoods, as if he’s joined a cult. Can you post a link to the next one?

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Jack Kimball
20:05 Jan 09, 2024

Hey Graham. There is no next one, as of yet. I'm flattered you asked though! Thank you for reading and commenting.

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Graham Kinross
05:34 Jan 10, 2024

You’re welcome. You should write a sequel. I want to know what the weird masks and robes on the video call was.

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Irene Duchess
03:40 Mar 10, 2023

...wow. I literally could NOT stop reading. so, was the narrator's brother part cat or something? I'm not sure I really understood that. or like a cat in human form? or was James turning INTO a cat?

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Jack Kimball
13:13 Mar 10, 2023

Yours to decide Lilah... The next chapter we find out. ;-) Thank you for reading and commenting. 'NOT stop reading' made my day! Maybe next is to write Jack London's 'Call of the Wild' from the perspective of a horse.

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17:21 Mar 09, 2023

Good story! It reminded me of two things...First, my brother used to have a cat and sort of became an old cat lady sort of person. It was a little scary! Also, have you seen online the man who is turning himself into an alien? That is gross and scary. He has body parts removed to become more alien like!

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Jack Kimball
22:49 Mar 09, 2023

Scary is good! But the mind that would remove body parts sounds kind of interesting for a story!

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Christine Gries
01:15 Mar 09, 2023

I found your story very entertaining and intriguing. You hit all the good cat qualities as well as describing Cat people. Although my cat, Miss Kitty, would argue that since I love both dogs and cats, I am not a true cat person and what would I know of such matters. Thank you for a great read.

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Jack Kimball
22:48 Mar 09, 2023

Thank you Christine for your kind words. I really appreciate it. You can be a cat person and have a dog according to my brother James.

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Viga Boland
19:40 Mar 06, 2023

What an amazing flight into fantasy horror…neither of which I ever read…but just might if you come up with more like this. My weary old mind refuses to let itself go on fiction. I’m so envious of writers who can. I’m just too steeped in reality: much of my earlier life was horrible enough and I just can’t go dark any more. Great job!

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Jack Kimball
22:58 Mar 07, 2023

Thank you Viga. I bet you could pretty much write well anything you want. Best. Jack

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Viga Boland
23:02 Mar 07, 2023

Thanks for those kind words Jack. Perhaps one day I will accept that I’m a better writer than I give myself credit for. People like you and so many others on Reedsy really help.

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Mary Bendickson
16:34 Mar 06, 2023

I agree with all you said in your comment. Thank you. I thought it doesn't matter but I appreciate comment also. I understand some likes come from social media which I don't do at all. In it for the enjoyment. Like reading so many talented authors.

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Jack Kimball
17:01 Mar 06, 2023

Yes. The talent of many of these writers is truly inspiring and the prompts keep the motivation going. My experience has been wonderful with the writers who really support each other positively. Reedy has been a super experience.

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Mary Bendickson
15:24 Mar 06, 2023

Vivid imagination! You get a lot of commentary. But then you asked for it. Is that all it takes?

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Jack Kimball
16:06 Mar 06, 2023

Hi Mary. Thank you for the compliment and reading 'Cats!'. There has been commentary on the story and I certainly enjoy reading what people have to say and gaining as much input as possible so I can write better. But if by "all it takes", you mean a story getting a bunch of likes and comments has a greater chance of winning the contest, I don't think it works that way. I believe the judges read all the stories, shortlist them, and decide who has the winning story based on their criteria, and the likes and comments don't have a lot of influ...

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Viga Boland
13:10 Mar 07, 2023

Jack, I’m with you 100% on the topic of judging the stories. I too feel judges shouldn’t see who wrote the story. Deciding whether a story be shortlisted should be based solely on the story’s merits, the writer’s skills, and how well it has followed the requirements of the prompt. To reassure Mary Bendickson, I’m sure having lots of likes and comments has little bearing on the judges’ decisions to shortlist or not. But those likes and comments are super important for keeping writers motivated. Being shortlisted or winning is a goal worth ...

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Lisa Cornell
21:36 Mar 05, 2023

You got my attention! The description of two brothers growing up in a dysfunctional family and then coming together again as adults was done brilliantly. My interpretation was his brother was looking for an escape. A lifestyle that he could have no responsibility and "give up" with expectations that his brother would step in and take care of him as he had always done. A dynamic that can subtly play on in adult lives when one sibling is functioning well and the other one isn't.

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Jack Kimball
16:27 Mar 06, 2023

Thank you for the compliment and reading 'Cats!'. It is amazing me the insight I sometimes get in comments. I agree with 'dysfunctional family', 'having that come together as adults', and 'his brother was looking for an escape', but I did not think about any of those elements consciously. I was simply trying to write a story that held interest and had a twist to make it more fun. In this writing thing the subconscious is far more powerful and insightful than I ever would have imagined.

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Kathryn Kahn
19:50 Mar 05, 2023

Nice story, Jack. I kept wondering whose delusion it was. Or was it? You left us with so many possibilities.

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Jack Kimball
20:55 Mar 05, 2023

Thank you for reading ‘Cats!’ Kathryn! I think the delusional one was myself. Yes, lots of ways to go with this. Stay tuned for episode two…

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Nathaniel Miller
14:19 Mar 05, 2023

Really interesting story, Jack! I found myself quite pulled into it. Your writing is nice and gripping; I like it. Yes, this was quite the interesting take on cat people and their relationship to cats. Still a bit confused on who exactly James is, and how accurate he is about "turning into a cat," but that's the point, isn't it? That we don't actually know if he's right? Really makes for a nice and mysterious ending, and the idea of a grown, muscular man napping on a sunny roof is too funny to me. I really liked this. Really liked all th...

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Jack Kimball
15:07 Mar 05, 2023

Thank you Nathaniel for taking the time to read and offer input. I really do appreciate your comments. I think you are correct in all your points. 'fixin's' come from my local vernacular so it bled into the story. Yes, I meant 'metamorphosis' and will make that correction when I can. You saying you were 'pulled into it' meant a lot. That was the whole intent. Thanks again!

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Marty B
06:19 Mar 05, 2023

A little violent, but I do want that job! '“They don’t work. They lie in the sun, they eat, they defecate, they ruin your couch with their scratching. But what they don’t do is work.' A good yarn!

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Jack Kimball
14:50 Mar 05, 2023

Thank you for reading Marty. I think my cat needs to get with your cat and they could rule the world.

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Bb B
04:23 Mar 05, 2023

Oh my goodness, Jack. Where did that come from? You certainly don't need a review from me. Sell this to M. Night Shyamalan and Jordan Peele and watch them run with it! I want to read everything you write.

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Jack Kimball
05:00 Mar 05, 2023

Hey Bb. I’m frankly honored and flattered to be even mentioned in the same sentence as Shyamalan or Peele. I mean ‘Sixth Sense’, ‘Get Out’? A loooong way to go. But you nailed what I’m after voice wise. Thank you.

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Michelle Oliver
03:08 Mar 05, 2023

What a story. Well done a very surreal feeling. I wasn’t sure what was real or not. I like the power dynamic that you built between the brothers. Love that turns to despair, then downright horror. One thing, and it might be correct … I don’t know… I am not sure. “vanilla file”? Manila folder/file is what I think you are referring to, or at least that’s what we call them here.

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Jack Kimball
03:41 Mar 05, 2023

Thank you Michelle for taking the time to read ‘Cats!’ Butter is melting in my mouth. I am having a ‘Mitzee Moment’. And, uh… you’re correct! It’s Manila not vanilla (no wonder they think I’m an idiot at the office)

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Shirley Medhurst
21:45 Mar 04, 2023

Great story, Jack. Felt the tension between the 2 brothers - then building up/getting out of control. I especially liked this bit: « And then a matted, quivering, slimy fur was on my mouth, around my mouth, and pressing in, tighter, tighter still, a hollow rushing sound as I realized the air was being sucked out of my lungs. » Very powerful!

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Jack Kimball
22:37 Mar 04, 2023

Thank you Shirley! Coming from you who wrote 'A Partnership in the Garden', mine seems to pale, so I really appreciate you liking 'Cats!'.

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Tricia Cundiff
21:09 Mar 04, 2023

Apparently you have the same mixed feelings I do about cats; there's a part that admires their independence and their 'always in charge' attitude, and another that just really dislikes them and prefers dogs that always want to please us!

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Jack Kimball
05:04 Mar 05, 2023

Yup. Dogs. Dumb? Nope, not me. Dogs.

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Tara Leigh Parks
20:22 Mar 04, 2023

I enjoyed this. Thank you.

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Jack Kimball
20:43 Mar 04, 2023

From you that's extremely flattering. But I haven't quite reached the rapist duck stage. Maybe someday. Thank you.

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Lily Finch
18:07 Mar 04, 2023

Jack, this was quite the cat tail. Not to be confused with the cattail. But it always comes down to sibling rivalry and the youngest trying to usurp the oldest as the leader. The dependency existed since the mother's death, putting the MC in a parental role for James. However, James used his mischievous intelligence to entrap his brother into becoming a cat person. Well done. This might be an error: At moment, right then, I knew who I was. LF6.

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Jack Kimball
18:58 Mar 04, 2023

HI Lily. Thanks for reading! Yes, there was a typo I missed. Should read 'At that moment, right then, I knew who I was. ( I was playing with all my 'that' words trying to get rid of them! )

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Lily Finch
19:29 Mar 04, 2023

Jack, I hear you command F and typing in the word to see how many you use in a piece of writing scares me. LOL. LF6.

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Mustang Patty
15:27 Mar 04, 2023

Hi there, Jack, This story is spellbinding. I felt the emotions of the brother, and how he knew he was losing James. However, it wasn't until the morning he realized the truth behind everything. Well done! Thank you for sharing, and Good luck in the contest, ~MP~

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Jack Kimball
16:39 Mar 04, 2023

Thank you Mustang for reading and offering input. Almost opposite polarity from 'Simba's Reign' if you think about it.

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Francis Daisy
03:06 Mar 03, 2023

I have often wondered as my cat stares at me: who is exactly in charge? I clean up his poop, I bring him his meals and water. I brush him and buy him toys. He lays in the sun and naps all day. He has the run of the house AND he can climb on the counters and climb the curtains! (only when we aren't looking) Maybe being a cat - man or woman isn't such a bad gig! You may be on to something here!

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Jack Kimball
03:43 Mar 03, 2023

What we do for love of our pets… I really appreciate you taking the time to read ‘Cats!’ Francis. I look forward to reading your submission on the next prompt!

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Russell Mickler
16:19 Mar 02, 2023

Grin - excellent commentary on dependency, if you ask me :) But I liked the transformation, the folder with the cat needs, and "What is this? Rosemary's Baby?" grin ... fun read, Jack ... R

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Jack Kimball
17:06 Mar 02, 2023

I hadn’t thought of the dependency angle! Maybe my subconscious at work? I really appreciate you reading ‘Cats!’ Russell. I checked out www.black-anvil-books.com. You’ve got a lot going on in that head of yours!

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Russell Mickler
17:08 Mar 02, 2023

So many halflings, so little time :) R

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