So I’m at my desk. Writing. The usual.

Evil Kitten is nowhere to be seen.

This alone should have set off warning bells. Somehow, my internal Kitten Warning System got FUBARed though, and nothing seems amiss. I just continue typing away, oblivious to the fact that six pounds of DOOM is lurking around the corner.

Just as I breathe a sigh of relief and give myself a metaphorical pat on the back for finishing a chapter there’s a white blur in the doorway. It zooms up to my chair, leaps, tackles my arm, and bites me three or four times before digging its claws in in a macabre parody of a swimmer’s turn and zipping back out the door.

I call her Evil Kitten for a reason.