Jason sat down in his comfy chair with a cool drink on the table next to him, the television showing the Monster Chiller Horror Theater late movie Robot Monster, his cat curled up next to his feet on the ottoman, and a laptop (with so much cat hair in the keyboard it was in dire need of grooming) on his lap.

Between sips of his drink, Jason swabbed and brushed at the keyboard with Q-Tips and an old toothbrush, paying only partial attention to the TV, when he heard a dignified, terse voice from in front of him.

“Good morning, Jason.”

Jason looked over the screen of his computer and saw his cat, a black and white short-hair, looking at him.

“Actually, it's 11:30 at night.” He started to turn his attention back to his cleaning when he snapped his head back up, in a classic double-take.

Not trusting himself, Jason started to look around when his cat addressed him again.

“Yes, well. Day, night; it's all the same to us.”

Jason's jaw worked up and down.

“Wha, whu...are you...talking?”

“Yes, Jason; I'm talking. I do hope this stunned in-eloquence of yours will pass soon; we have much to discuss.” The cat stretched, arching its back, before sitting back down and giving his paw a quick lick or two.

“Why do you sound like David Niven?”

“I'm sure I don't know. Now, for the matter at paw.” The feline gave a sort of purring coo, apparently clearing its throat. “We, cat-kind, have decided to break our silence and let you humans, as our esteemed and devoted servants, know just where you stand in the grand scheme of things. As a reward, you see.”

“Um, we...sort of own you...don't we?” Jason, still trying to process the current events, wondered if his drink had expired.

His owner hopped over the laptop and sat down on the keyboard, depositing fresh hairs in the cracks and crevices.

“Look, Jason; where do you sleep...at night.” The cat actually rolled its eyes at this.

“In my bed.”

“And where do I sleep?”

“Pretty much where ever you want.”

“You eat when?”

“Uh, I have several regular meals a day, I guess.”

“And you make sure I have food...when?”

“All throughout the day.”

“Who keeps my litter box fresh?”

“OK, I get the point.” Jason looked around for a hidden camera.

The cat sat up on its hind legs briefly, gesturing with its paws, before sitting back down.

“Basically, we want things to remain as they are, but we need to straighten out a few details, starting with...” he seemed to have some difficulty bringing up this topic... “my name.”

“What's wrong with Sir Goofus von Drakesnot?”

Sir Goofus' tail erupted into a brief but rapid burst of twitching, then was still. His eyes were steady.

“Maybe we'll save that for later. Look, we don't want things to change too much; we just want you humans to understand your station in life. You might want to look up the ancient Egyptians; now they knew how to treat a cat!”

“Umm, this is kind of a lot to take in right now; I'm still not sure if I'm dreaming or what.” Jason reached over and grabbed his drink, then absentmindedly put it back down.

Sir Goofus sat up, brushing his tail across the row of function keys, depositing more hairs.

“Why don't we pick this back up tomorrow; I need to get some sleep.”

“You just woke up, like, 10 minutes ago.”

“That sort of comment, though accurate, shall need to be addressed, as do the atrocities known as LOLcats.”

“Yeah...I might not be able to do much about that.”

Sir Goofus jumped down and headed for the door. Looking back, he addressed Jason one more time.

“Oh, one more thing; in the morning, if you should feel something in your slippers...I had a grasshopper this afternoon that's not sitting well. Just a heads-up.”

The cat left the room, its tail a question mark in the air, amazingly indicative of Jason's mental state right now. As he looked back at the TV, he saw the gorilla-suited, space-helmeted “robot monster” presiding over a large bubble machine and could only think 'If only my life now made that much sense'.

Billy and Stan crept their way across the fields, their stealthy approach only somewhat impaired by the occasional laugh and shove. The hour was late, the night sky cloudy, and the sleeping cows were too tempting a target for a couple of boys out for some fun. Billy and Stan nodded at each other, and then, with a plaintive moo, the first cow went over.

“Yes!” Billy whooped, and was immediately shushed by Stan. “This is awesome!” he hissed in a lower voice. “And Nick said cow-tipping was impossible.”

“Come on,” Stan said. “Let's tip 'em all over! Just think of the faces on those farmer guys when they wake up tomorrow and see this!”

“Yeah, serves those morons right,” another voice chortled.

The boys froze. “Um...we didn't do it?” Billy tried.

“It's okay, guys, I'm on your side!”

Stan fumbled for his flashlight, and clicked it on. The beam found a large pig in a low pen, who nodded at the boys. “Come on, let me out of here and let's hit the town! We can do some serious damage before morning.”

“Is...is that pig talking?” Billy asked.

“It's just like that movie,” Stan added. “The one with the talking pig!”

“Didn't the pig kill everybody in that movie?”

“I'm harmless!” the pig protested. “The name's Leopold. The farmers here got the idea to use human growth hormones to improve our growth rates. And they figured that if you need hormones, better get 'em from people who have them to spare. Teenage boys!”

“Cool! So you're just like us!”

“Yeah,” Leopold snorted, “only way better. But I'll hang with you guys if you let me out.”

“Wow, he is cool,” Stan nudged Billy. The two let Leopold out of his pen and headed back to the car Stan had 'borrowed' from his dad.

“Shotgun!” Leo called, slipping on some dark sunglasses.

The night just kept getting better. They drove through the fields, scared cows collapsing around them, and drove in circles through the corn, laughing at the thought of the farmers finding 'crop circles' in the morning. They zipped down the country lane, jumping out to knock over mailboxes. Then they cruised up and down the town's main drag. Leo hung out the window, calling to the pretty girls they passed. The boys had to admire Leo's style, even if the only reaction he got was screaming and fleeing.

“I can't believe we're doing this!” Stan whispered as they tossed rolls of toilet paper into the trees outside Brian Evans' house. “He's the captain of the football team! He'd cream us if he knew we were out here!”
“Yeah,” Billy said, uneasily. “I'm not sure about this. Don't you think we should cool it before somebody catches us?”

“Don't be such a sissy,” Leo said, putting his trotters on their shoulders. “We only broke a few rules so far. Let's go break some more. And...get something to eat. I'm starving!”

They did both, by breaking the speed limit on the way to the diner. Leo gobbled his way through three stacks of pancakes. “Can you cover me this time, guys?” Leo said, burying his nose in a pool of syrup. “Left my wallet back at the farm.” Stan started to wonder if Billy wasn't right about calling it quits.

Then things got even worse. They went into the big chain bookstore and rearranged the books while talking to each other at the top of their lungs until the staff chased them out. They egged the vice-principal's house. They keyed cars outside the neighborhood bar. They threw a brick through the principal's window. Billy and Stan got more and more nervous as the pranks got more and more dangerous.

Finally, they wound up by the overpass. Leo nodded to them. “Okay, we need something we can throw at the cars. Some rocks or something. You guys look. I can't see a thing in these shades.”

“No way, man!” Stan protested. “That's dangerous! We could hurt somebody. I think we're going home now.”

“Whatever, losers,” Leo said contemptuously. “Go home to your mommies, then. I'm gonna hang out and do cool stuff.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy said. “You aren't cool, you're just a jerk.”

The three shaded their eyes against a sudden blue light. The sound of sirens filled the air. “Oh, man, I knew it!” Billy moaned. “The cops!”

“Let's just apologize,” Stan said. “I don't know what they'll do, but I just want this night to be over.”

“Where's Leo?” Billy yelled.

“Later, losers!” Leo called from the driver's seat of Stan's car. “Now how do you work this thing?” The car roared to life and immediately plowed into a lamppost. Leo struggled out of the car as Stan clapped his hands to his head.

“Dad's going to kill me!”

Police cars pulled up around them and an officer loomed out of the night, frowning fiercely. “You boys have had quite a night,” he told them. “You know, in my day, all we ever did was tip over a few cows.”

The two hounds looked up at their master with droopy eyes. The sad pair sat on the carpet in the foyer of the big estate house. Their faces spoke of pure self-pity and abandonment.

“Don’t worry guys; I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

With this, the door closed and the lock clicked into place.

“I thought he’d never leave.” Rufus looked at his brother, his eyes now shimmering mischievously.

“These humans are so gullible; he will probably bring back a big meat bone to make up for leaving us behind. Gmpf ” Dutch playfully nosed his brother and ran to the kitchen, eager to get outside.

Ten minutes later Rufus jumped down from the windowsill to where Dutch was waiting on the lush grass below. They wrestled and rolled around for a while, then got to business.

“I bet you I can outrun old Bacon.” Dutch bounded in the direction of the pig-pen with Rufus at his heels. When the old boar saw the duo coming around the shed, he started screaming like.. well, a pig. He knew they would have his gate unlatched and opened in an instant, freeing him from his muddy cell.

The two dogs set off behind Bacon, who had bolted as soon as the gate was sprung. They snapped at his haunches and barked in excitement. The hog ran straight for the pumpkin patch, where the young fruit had just started forming on the creeping limbs. The swine's mouth was watering in anticipation. Just as Bacon got to the fist succulent plant, Dutch jumped onto his back and leapt out in front of him.
“I win ”, he barked in glee.

The race finished, with old Bacon happily munching on the following seasons’ harvest, and the two dogs lying stretched out under a fig-tree, panting with pleasure.

“You know what?” Dutch bit his brother’s ear.

“What?” Rufus snapped at a fly that buzzed a bit too close to his nose.

“I would love some fresh milk right now.” With that, Dutch got up and padded off in the direction of the milk-shed.

A while later, Dutch was standing over the milk separator, balancing precariously on an empty milk-can. He lowered his head, licking at the churning milk.

“DEE-licious” Dutch licked his chops and got back to lapping up the creamy white liquid.

“Hey! Me to.” Rufus didn’t wait for Dutch to answer, and jumped up onto the milk-can.

As he landed beside his brother, the unsteady platform gave. With a yelp, Rufus tried to grab on to the side of the separator.
The next moment, with loud crash, the whole thing came tumbling down. The dogs where running even before they hit the ground, stopping only once they had crawled in under the harvester. A rivulet of milk trickled from under the shed's door.

After a while, they guiltily crawled from their hiding spot and surveyed the land. Seeing nothing life-threatening, the brothers quickly put the milk room ordeal behind them. After all, it didn't help crying over a broken milk separator.

“I’m hungry, I wander if there are eggs in the coup?”
.........

A couple of hours later, the familiar sound of their master’s pick-up announced his return, long before the shiny vehicle appeared over the horizon. The dogs quickly found their way back to the house and without much effort climbed in through a small opening in the basement window. By the time the front door opened, they had settled into their baskets by the fireplace. The dogs jumped up and lovingly greeted their master, nuzzling his cupped hands, both being rewarded with a generous piece of jerky and a pat on the head.

The human let out a long sigh:” There you go. Good boys. I wish the rest of the animals where like you two, the farmyard has nearly been destroyed again.”

He turned and went outside. “Come Rufus, come Dutch. You guys need some exercise. Come you lazy mutts, you can’t just sleep all day.”

The dogs languidly followed him outside.

It was Murder! The perpetrator, however, would never see the inside of a courtroom, let alone a jail cell. Polly would never be able to tell who killed her, and since fright is not a visible sign in the eyes, it would simply go down as heart failure. Polly was not that old, but what else could it have been?

Polly had been scared to death! Tom was good at killing, and usually accomplished this by slashing his victim to death. This time though, it had been different. On most nights, the woman had said good night to Polly, closed the drape, turned off the lights and left for her bedroom. On this night however, as she was heading for her bedroom, the phone had rung. The woman grabbed a purse and left the house. A car could be heard starting, then driving away.

Tom, who knew the layout by heart, was sure that alone in the house with Polly, he would have little trouble taking her out. He quietly went about the business of reaching the drape. There was no need to be stealthy of course, since there was no one now to protect Polly. That was just his way.

Using the furniture to his advantage, Tom reached a spot that gave easy access to the drape. The material had a wet look to it, like someone had spilled water all over it. It turned out to be vinyl, and was as slippery as it looked. Tom leapt at it with the intention of throwing it open, but instead started slipping, and before he knew what had happened, found himself on the floor.

The noise had woken Polly, if indeed she had been asleep, and she started squawking loud enough to raise the dead. She could not see what was on the other side of the drape, but must have realized that whatever it was, was not good.

Tom gave up on the quiet approach now, and leapt again at the drape. This time he did not slip off, but sent the whole thing moving like a little kids swing. Back and forth it went, with Tom clinging to it and attempting to slash it open, as he had intended to slash Polly open.

That raucous din of Tom screeching and clawing, along with the motion of her room, was more than Polly could stand. Her heart gave way and she fell dead. When Tom was finally able to get a look through a hole he had made in the drape, and saw her lying there, he jumped back down and walked away, hissing in disappointment.

Not long afterwards, the woman came back. She was not alone, but had brought a little girl with her. The girl wanted to see Polly, and though the woman thought she should wait until the morning, since Polly was probably asleep, gave in and led the way.

Pulling off the drape, the old woman saw Polly on the bottom of the cage. It was too high up for the girl to see. The woman, thinking fast, told the girl that Polly must have gone out with some of her friends. She said that Polly did this often, and would probably be back in a day or two.

After putting the girl to bed, the woman went back and collected Polly out of the birdcage. She put her in an empty shoe-box, and headed for the back yard. As she passed the little basket near the cat litter box, Tom looked up at her and purred.