The Dead Cat Story
So we were sitting around our apartment in Waco, TX., circa 1993. Taylor was reading by the window, I was working on my Mac Classic at the table, Joel was watching television, Alan was gone. A cat was meowing loudly outside, very loudly, we could all hear it. That went on for a few minutes until Taylor got fed up and got up to scare the cat away. He opened the back door of the apartment and freaked the cat out. The cat darted away from our door and out into the street where it was immediately squished by a truck.
The truck driver stopped. “Was that your cat?”
Taylor replied, “No.”
The driver nodded and started driving again, leaving the squished cat in the street. We all went outside to look at the flat cat and then called our friends to tell them what just happened. Patrick, Josh and Willie were amazed by the story and how quickly it all happened.
Later I went with Patrick’s girlfriend Kim to find the Branch Davidian compound. The compound was outside of town, not in Waco as so many newscasters said. It was getting dark and you could see the spotlights that the FBI was using from miles away. We started driving, just following the lights. We never found exactly how to get to the compound, as the ranch was on several back country roads, but we had fun just driving around and looking for it.
Kim dropped me off at our apartment, and as I stepped up to the front door I noticed something in the doorway. There, with string tied around its two front paws and taped up to the inside of the doorway so it stood up, was the dead cat. It’s squished little body no longer bleeding, there was a scrawled sign reading “YOU KILLED ME” in red ink made up to look like blood.
I stepped over the cat and went inside, finding Joel and Taylor. I showed them the cat and we knew immediately who’d done this — Patrick, Josh and Willie.
Joel and Taylor carried the cat out to the garbage, then we called Patrick, Josh and Willie. They feigned innocence of the whole matter at first, but after hardly any interrogation they fessed up and said that they had done it. They’d thought it would be funny for us to leave our apartment the next morning on our ways to class and see the tiny crushed cat sitting there in our path.
It was about at that moment that we heard some banging around out at the garbage. We opened the door, while still on the phone, and peeked out at the garbage. There, dumping bottles and cans into the garbage, were 3 men in a truck. They continued to dump their trash until someone sneezed or something and they heard us. The 3 of them jumped into the truck and took off, very quickly. It was kind of strange, we thought.
And then we remembered the cat. We walked out to the garbage and, yes, the cat was gone. They’d taken a squished dead cat.
Probably going to use it in some satanic ritual or something, but the sickos had taken the dead cat.