Story Time: When Cat Poop Attacks

Story Time: When Cat Poop Attacks

Posted by on Feb 22, 2013 in Story Time, Writing | 19 comments

It was a Canadian day, meaning it was windy, snowy, and cold outside. I’d slipped on my warm slippers, built for the everlasting cold of my world. I moved towards the stairwell, each step glaring at me with opposition. One at a time I overcame their adversity, avoiding their metal claws and dust bunny fangs. Something rattled inside my slipper, but I ignored it.

By halfway I felt defeated. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath, wondering why I would walk all this way. I could’ve stayed downstairs where I was comfortable. There was coffee downstairs. Mmmm, coffee.

I realized the magic of the stairwell was trying to consume me. It wanted to syphon my strength and fuse fear into my soul. I pushed past it and demolished the final stairs, biting my thumb at the stairwell as it sneered at my triumph. But something wasn’t right. I hadn’t escaped the stairwell of foreign hairballs unscathed.

It was a lump at first, cold and hard, moving beneath my foot. Each step pushed it harder against me until it attacked, lashing out with sharp jaws. I gasped, lifting my foot from the ground and shaking my slipper, as if the tremor of such a quake could dislodge any opponent who dare feast upon my heel.  The lump moved again and I stared down at my slipper, attempting to  penetrate the black shell and strike fear into the heart of my attacker. After all, I didn’t want to slide my slipper off and empty it if I didn’t have to. That would be too much work. That’s what the demons wanted.

Two more steps and the lump tried to tear away my skin and make its way into the sugar-infested blood that lied beneath the soft shell of my humanity. I cursed under my breath and sighed. My foot slipped out of the slipper and I reached down. The creature had ignored my stone-cold Canadian glare, but now it would suffer my true wrath.

With my hand wrapped around the front of my slipper, I lifted it from the carpeted earth and tipped it vertically. A clang and rattle sounded, then silence. I gave the slipper a shake of supernatural proportions sure to dislodge any clinging opponents. A muffled scream came from the inner fabric and finally the villainous creature dislodged, falling to the dust bunny hallway and rolling away with an aerial aversion technique I’d never seen. It was like an enormous piece of dog food that sought deeper meaning from its life. One that avoided the ride to my Labradors stomach.

Startled for only a moment, I attacked. Ice-covered fingers reached down and hit the attacker, grasping it with a grip no demon could escape. It lashed out, it’s body remolding itself with each ounce of pressure I applied. It squished.

Squishy? The dog food had become a partially mushy counterpart? Perhaps someone fed it after midnight, or worse, got it wet? I brought it to my nose and with a sniff it unleashed a aroma so fowl it  could slay the fiercest of giants. But I wasn’t a giant—I was a Canadian.

My eyes opened wide and I tossed the beast back to the floor. A green symbiote-like infection slid over my hand, creeping up my arm in an attempt to devour me. As the symobite consumed me, the beast  grew and expanded, stealing my power and strength to become a behemoth of stench and elasticity. I knew there was only one weapon that could be used against such a monster.

I did a dive roll into the bathroom, washing my hands with anti-bacterial soap. The symobite screamed and hissed. Smoke wafted into the air, the symobite destroyed by my cleanliness. I wouldn’t let this beast’s infectious nature consume my soul. With dry hands, I reached for the only weapon capable of defeating it—the roll of destiny.

It unraveled in my mighty grip, giving in to my obvious superiority. A one-handed cartwheel threw me back in the line of fire and I didn’t wait for my opponent to react. I lunged forward, guiding the roll like an extension of my body. It wrapped my foe in a Charmin-like embrace and the demon unleashed a primordial howl. In moments, the monster is consumed by the power of the roll. Its destiny has been met.

I moved with a warrior’s grace and lifted the beast with ease, leading it into the bathroom. When my grip released, a faint cry sounded, fading in the distance until the resounding splash of magic overcame it. With a flex of my power, water consumed the beast, swirling and gushing over it, and then it was gone, banished to a fate far worse than it set out to avoid. It would live eternally in the land of Fecalopolis.

Once again, an attack on my life had been averted. But the fight wasn’t over…not even close. These kinds of monsters didn’t attack on their own. They were demons commanded by a superior being. I knew this was only the beginning of my battle with evil. With this demon destroyed, I now had to face its creator: Abby the cat.


  1. LMAO!!! Man I love your ability to tell a story!!! The way you can turn something like stepping on cat poop to something awesome!!! See this is the mark of a true story teller! Love it…….hahaha….sorry have to wipe the tears from my face!

    • As always, thanks for the comment, Danielle! I thought you might enjoy this one 🙂

  2. That was the most entertaining poop story I’ve ever heard.

    • I do what I can. My cat loves me, but loves to torment me as well, obviously.

  3. Got here from a Twitter link, and I’m still laughing! This was fabulous! I’ve never actually experienced this particular battle, but I still bear permanent scars from the cold, slimy hairball lurking beneath the sheets of the (fully made) bed. Which I slid into without checking first. Because the bed was made.

    Ninja poop and hairballs… very nasty. 🙂

    • Hairballs are horrible! And you always have to use caution when approaching, because often times they look like poop too! LOL. Ouch, that sounds painful. I can’t say I’ve had that happen to me, but I have been on the angry end of those claws before. They are not nice.

  4. Thank you for making me smile today 🙂

    • Thanks for stopping by Denise 🙂

  5. This is great, Matt! I have had a similar run-in, but with a mouse-sized hairball!!

    • Thanks, Kathy! Ick! As I said earlier too, hairballs look just like poop sometimes. Add in the fact it was mouse-sized? No thanks. LOL

  6. *gasping for breath* LMAO!!!!!! OMG…..I don’t think Abby likes you Matt! Heehee….Did you wash that slipper???

    LOVE story time. 🙂

  7. EWWWW! I’d take spiders and maybe even bears over cat poop any day!

    You are THE best at telling a great story about sometimes very questionable subjects 😉 Thanks for the laugh…again!

  8. hello, I found Exiled very entertaining. I like Rayna the most. when i came online, i couldn’t find your blog, glad that i’ve located this.
    How did you selfpublish ? I am an avid writer trying to get my stuff out. When you start out, other than friends how do you promote?

    • Thanks for the comment! There are a lot of things that come before promoting. I suggest checking out J.A. Konrath’s site “A Newbies Guide To Publishing,” as well as reading up on the older posts on Nathan Bransford’s site. That’s where I started. After that I would research Literary Agents, even if you plan to self-publish, their blogs are full of the most helpful information you can find.

    • I see, ok I will. it’s weird, i had ticked the option for notification if i get a response but didn’t receive it and thought i hadn’t got a reply. :0

  9. Loved it! Thanks for my morning chuckle.

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