#WRITINGPROMPTS Contest Week 2: Tinder Date (Gone Wrong)

You wake. You don't know how long you've been unconscious, but you do know your head hurts. You're lying on the floor of a house. Your eyes are still having a little trouble focusing, but a strange sight comes into view.

The first thing that realize is there's a large, beefy gray cat looming over your face. He's wearing a bow tie and licking his lips. On the floor next to him are small balloons and a brightly-frosted cupcake with a #1 candle on it. The cat realized you're awake and greets you with a deep, gravely voice.

"How you doing, baby?"

"Did that cat just talk to me?" you think to yourself. "And did he just call me 'baby?'"

"I'm Ripper," the sizable feline continues. "Sorry for having to rap you on the head, but it's just that it's my first birthday and seeing as no one wanted to come to my party willingly, I had to get "creative." You don't mind though, do you, doll?"

"'Doll?' What is he, a 60's gangster?"

"What happened?" you ask, still confused about what is going on.

Ripper paces around the room, tail twitching as he continues to lick his lips. Every now and then he stops long enough to lick a paw and rub it on his ear. You realize he is grooming and primping himself. Your confusion increases.

"Well, babe, you were looking for a date. I was looking for some company. We hit it off!" He smiles. Then he shrugs. "Ok, so technically I hit you... on the back of the head with my water dish. Like I said, it's my birthday and I was having the hardest time getting someone to celebrate with me. It's not like I wanted to hurt you, but I couldn't get rejected again. I was running out of time."

"This is so weird," you think for the 100th time. "How much have I had to drink?"

"You haven't had anything to drink," Ripper offers, as if reading your minds. "And you haven't been drugged. It's just the effects of getting a small whack from a water bowl. It will wear off soon. Besides, my mother is coming and we want you looking your best. We wouldn't want her to think I'm some sort of failure."

"What about kidnapper?" you retort as you sit up.

"What did you say?!" Ripper demands. He had wandered to the other side of the room, but he darts back to you in the blink of an eye. He leaps on your lap and stands up so his face is right next to yours. His heavy weight digs into your legs through the small points of his two back feet. He places a paw on your neck and you feel two claws begin to dig into your skin. It's not enough to break the skin, but the point has been made.

"I'm not a kidnapper," Ripper growls. "I'm someone who was put in a difficult situation, and I did what was necessary to have the life and the birthday party I DESERVE!" He bats your head with his other paw to reinforce the point.

Fear is rapidly replacing the confusion from before. You struggle not to panic. Ripper has his claws at your throat and his paws are stabbing into your legs.

A girl's voice calls from across the room, "Oh, how cute! You got Muffin a cupcake for his birthday! That's so sweet of you. And you're cuddling. Isn't that just the cutest?"

"Huh?" you think.

The so-called "Ripper" jumps off your lap and trots over to his mother. She picks him up in one arm and walks over to you, offering you the other arm to help you up. You accept, and regain your feet.

"I'm so glad you two got along. Sometimes Muffin has a hard time when I leave, but it looks like you two had fun. Thank you sooo much for watching him while I was on my work trip."

She holds out some money and you take it, still confused as to what is happening. At least the fear is subsiding a bit.

Still, it seems like there's an opening in the conversation so you simply mutter, "Glad to do it. I'd better get going though."

Pocketing the money, you start for the door to the outside, to freedom. Just as you're about to walk through it into the sweet, fresh air, Ripper squirms free from his mother and scurries over to you. He stands on his hind legs again, and places his front paws on your knees like a dog. You lean down to pet him, making it look like you're just petting him goodbye.

You move to pick him off you, but as you do that deep, gravely voice says:

"Happy Birthday to me"

You run.

---

_{Image Source: Pexels}

This is my entry for @themarkymark's writing contest. You can read more about it here

---

@themanwithnoname