*** THIS IS A RETELLING OF A DIVINE EVENT, TREAT THE CONTENTS AS SUCH ***
*** DATE: 11/09/22 5:48 P.M. ***
It was that time of year, darkness before 6 at night, truly the end of happiness as you knew it. The house had no energy, full of winter lethargy. The protagonist was walking through the clustered halls of his suburban abode. He was hungry, such a mortal desire. I don’t know what I would do if I had to eat, I would be doomed.
Anyway, he picked up a bag of what appeared to be crunchy, dried up leaves, labeled “Doritos”. They smelled awfully average in my opinion. Catnip is far superior. The protagonist scampered back to his place of rest and opened up this bag. Before he ate any of them though, a grating robotic sound echoed throughout the aforementioned clustered halls of the aforementioned suburban abode. Everyone in the house shot up to attention. They all gathered in the living room, where a glowing green cat was standing.
This cat is my loyal liaison, Shimo.
I heard what happened to those cats of yours, and believe me, I am truly sorry. However, I have arrived for a. . . social call of sorts. May I have a word with you . . . Sweet Pig Fat? That is your online name, if my source is correct.
The protagonist struggled to get any words out. I suppose it would be difficult for a mortal to do so when there was an emissary of the cat god himself standing in his living room.
It is alright, I understand. May we have a few minutes alone?
The protagonist turned to his family members,, who stood in pure awe. He shyly nodded and followed the cat into a closet. This was no ordinary closet, as they both stepped into what seemed to be an office, but with furry walls, and- oh, look at that, a jar of catnip. How lovely. Shimo jumped on top the chair behind the desk, and motioned for the protagonist to take a seat.
Sorry about that whole, barging into your house thing. Believe me, it was truly necessary. Would you like some catnip? It is the food of the gods.
After a bit of stammering, the protagonist let out some words, finally.
I- I- no, no. I don’t know.
Okay, you don’t know what you are missing out on here, just saying. Anyway, let us get to the matter by which I was sent to contact you. You have heard of my lord, Astalba, have you not? I believe they posted a blog post on your website.
What? Um, . . . are you real?
Listen sir, I have tried to accommodate for your lack of cooperation so far, and I will continue to do so, but you will really need to start helping me here, okay?
The protagonist furled his brow and stared at Shimo with the most confused look on his face.
The blog? You have to be aware of the blog?
Yes, the blog. Are-Are you the one who posted? A-a cat?
No, if you would listen, you would have known that my lord, Astalba, is the one you have come into contact with. Also, be assured that he is unlike any other cat you will meet. Anyway, they would essentially like you to stop ignoring them, as in the posts “This is Serious” and “Back on Track”, you seem to believe my lord is a hacker of some sorts. Be assured, they are real and are contacting you. Understand.
I- I guess, . . . I- This is really overwhelming. Are you sure this is real?
I could ask you the same thing. This is very much real, and you need to understand that going forward. Again, do you understand?
I-uh. . Yes. Yes I understand.
Very good. Have a divine evening.
Suddenly, the protagonist found himself back on the couch with a bag of Doritos opened next to him. He held his head in his hands and exhaled heavily.
