Honourable mention in the 4th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.

That’s how it happened. There was no way anyone was caging me in. I’m the baddest mother bleeper you’ll ever know. Nothin’ holds me down.

There was this one cat. Yeah, he thought he could take me. He was posturing and throwing me the whisker. Had this black patch over his one eye, probably thought it was all bad ass. Might have fooled some. I knew he was a wuss. So he was eyeballing me, circling me, fronting. Tryin’ to get me to bristle. Damn, it was almost too easy. I let him do his thing for a while. Then he showed me some fang. He raised one of these colossal paws of his, but I was cool. Maybe I threw an eye roll in there too, but otherwise I didn’t move a muscle. So he had no way out after that big show of his. He had to bristle—didn’t have any other cards left. He looked like a complete tool, dead giveaway. Chump. I stared him down. Yeah, he backed off. I watched his fat ass walk away.

So the other day was kind of rough yeah. My old lady threw me out. She gives me this attitude like I can’t go out all night if I want to, like I can’t leave for days on end with my crew if I want to. So I like to hang out in alleys! Who brings the rats home, huh? She’s just sitting around all day, hissin’ at the air, lazy and fat with another set of kittens—just got rid of one litter and she’s pushing out another—did I say anything when half that last batch came out Siamese? Well, I didn’t, because that’s the kind of cat I am. Anyway, the point is I had a crap day so yeah this tall freak gets the jump on me. There I am, at the bus terminal, watching things the way I like to do, minding my own freakin’ business. And then, scooped up by the neck like a stupid kitten! Hey Pallie, watch the fur! Who the hell does he think he is? I was pissed and I let him know it. I can deliver when I need to. Gave him a scratch that’s gonna hurt like hell later—you know the kind. So he shoves me in this big old suitcase.

But I’m a cool cat. What did I do? I busted out is what. The fastenings were crap so I waited until he tipped the case just a little backward, then I made good on the broken zipper and poof! I’m flyin’! Damn close too. Almost had me in the slammer. Gave him the slip real good. Chump. Nobody’s got my number.



Christine Lauter graduated from Simon Fraser University in 1998. She is an executive assistant by day and a writer by night, writing everything from haiku to rap songs. “Hiss” received an honourable mention in the 4th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest. She lives in Vancouver.



Real Smoking Pleasure

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Third prize winner of the 8th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.



First prize winner of the 2009 Fortune Cookie Contest.