My mutated kittens

They’ve gotten out of control.

You’re embarrassing me, I say. People will know I made you and we’re in the middle of an apocalypse and they’ll think I’m trying to be ironic.

The kittens destroy buildings in the way anyone would expect a giant mutated kitten to destroy a building. The kittens purr and vibrate pictures off walls in distant cities.

Embarrassing, I say, but they do not quit. Kittens do not understand about apocalypses and irony and public opinion. Kittens do not care about embarrassment.


I worry that the only solution will be to put the kittens down, but I love the kittens

I have killed too many things I loved. Eaten too many things I love. There must be another solution. Some safe and easy choice.

All the time, I eat the things I love. It happens before I notice it is happening. I am talking to a person and then somehow I have eaten them or some large portion of them. I miss the portion even though I can feel it inside me.


Giant mutant kitten management

Though I’ve ignored it, it has become an issue. A problem to be dealt with. The kittens are horrible clichés. Everyone is talking about it. Horrible clichés, they say. And they say, Not in that good kind of cliché-way, but you know, in that other way.

I’m embarrassed to show my face. People recognize me on the streets. Always there is a giant mutant kitten hovering overhead, licking itself, eating parts of buildings, trying to catch airplanes. I want to think it’s cute. I want to admire the kitten. Because it is a larger version of a thing I obviously enjoy. But I can’t. It hovers and it embarrasses me and I’m not sure what can be done.

I try to lure the giant mutant kittens out of civilization, but my mousey toys are all too small. The kittens either cannot see the mousey toys or they do not care about such small and therefore un-enticing mousey toys.