Wicked Appetite

It was a little past midnight when we parked in front of my house. The Spook Patrol was absent, and the street was dark and blissfully quiet. Diesel let us in and flipped the lights on. Cat 7143 was sprawled in the middle of the floor, feet in the air. "Omigosh, " I said. "He's dead!" Cat's good eye opened, his tail twitched, and the eye closed. "Sleeping, " Diesel said. I looked more closely at Cat. He had muffin crumbs stuck to his face fur. "Looks like he helped himself to dinner. " Diesel sauntered into the kitchen and stood hands on hips, surveying the carnage. "If Uncle Phil were here, he'd turn Cat into a waffle iron. " Every muffin had been sampled. Some more than others. And some were completely destroyed. "He prefers the muffins in the pink wrappers, " Diesel said. They were my favorites, too. Good to have my opinion verified, even if it was by a cat. I cleaned the kitchen, and when Diesel wasn't looking, I ate the untouched muffin bottoms, since Cat had mostly eaten the muffin tops. I struggled up the stairs and collapsed onto my bed. "Are you going to sleep like that?" Diesel asked. "Don't you want to get undressed? Do you need help?" "If I sleep like this, I don't have to get dressed in the morning . . . Which is only three hours away. " "It would be more fun if you put those little shorts back on. " "I'm not interested in fun. I'm interested in sleep. And you promised you weren't sleeping here. " Diesel crawled onto the bed. "I lied. " I fluffed my pillow and pulled the quilt over myself. "If you touch me, I'll hurt you. " "I'm hard to hurt. " "I'll find a way. I'm motivated. " CHAPTER FOURTEEN