Cat’s Run Away, Part One: I am Stupid…

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Beforehand, you must understand two things:

First: I am mad. Actually, make that MAD. And I always will be.

Second: What I did even surprised me. I have never done anything like this before. Hence why I am freaking out.

Alright, I’m only freaking out a tiny bit. Excuse me for being emotionally sterile…

So I ran away from home.

Here’s what happened. In chronological order. And in several instalments.

I suppose it must’ve started the day before. Well, it was that that sort of inspired the idea. I suppose that the events that followed were sort of catalysts to the inevitable.

That day I got on the bus to go to school, and I was heading toward the back of the bus when I noticed what I thought was a corpse. It wasn’t moving, it smelt, and I was nearly terrified. Then I heard the corpse snore, and I realised, to my relief, that the corpse was in fact alive.

Then the transport officer came up to the living corpse, and told him to get off the bus. After waking him up, of course. The corpse refused. It was then that the transport officer threatened to call security who would forcibly take him off the bus.

I swear, the second the officer said ‘forcibly’, about ten girls took out their phones, ready to capture a fight on the bus.

And I was one of them.

Well, that’s not completely true. I was going to switch to camera mode on my iPad. Anyway, officer got off, bus went off, phones went away.

I was on the bus for about ten more minutes after that. And I had been sitting across from the homeless corpse. So I got to have a closer look at him.

He was young. Blonde hair, and I saw he had hazel eyes when he opened them.

He looked like he was in his teens, and he was rugged up in a rain jacket and baggy waterproof trackies.

And he was curled up on the back seat. Even when the driver went over a speed bump, he wasn’t stirred.

I also managed to figure a few things. Had this been a serial snoozer, he wouldn’t have been able to get on the bus in the first place.

Then I thought of all the people I had seen on the street, impervious to the wind, with their ragged, hardened skin. And yet they do not shelter in the CATs. This guy had soft looking skin, clean shaved. And he was sleeping on the bus.

I don’t think he has been homeless for very long.

Should’ve I said anything? Maybe. Looking back, I wanted to talk to him, ask him about himself. But I didn’t take that opportunity, to find out what it was like to be away from everyone you would’ve once held dear. I don’t know why he was there, because I didn’t ask. But if he were a runaway, then I missed my opportunity to know what it was like to do that.

Now we’re going to jump forward to the next day. BOOOOOOOING.

So I was cleaning my room. My mother came into the room.

Some people may already understand where this story is heading, but for others, I’ll fill it in anyway.

She yelled. A lot of things she yelled. I managed to pick up “Ungrateful”, “Never amount to anything” and “Respect”, or lack thereof.

So I went out of the house to what for now, I call the cubby house. Because it’s a house, but only the rooms have been built. So it’s essentially a cubby house.

I had my iPad and two books with me. So I read, and I danced, and I forgot my problems. Not crappy school coordinated dancing, but mad dancing that you do at raves, only I was by myself.

After two hours of singing a song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, (In this town, don’t we love it now! Everybody’s waiting for the next SURPRISE!) I went back. And my mother had locked me outside.

After about ten minutes, my brother came out. He had a smile bigger than a Cheshire cat on crack. And he told me gleefully that my mother had grounded me, and wanted me to give him my iPad, Facebook, and any sort of freedom I had. Because I had a much needed time out.

I told her as much when she came outside. Not that she heard any of it. I doubt she takes in anything that I say these days. But after she had left, I had some time to think.

And as all you imaginary readers know, thinking is a terrible thing.

I couldn’t stay with my mother right then. But there was no room with my friends, and I had no neighbours to stay with.

I was contemplating giving up, and pleading mother for the right to reenter, when all of a sudden, who should appear but my smug faced, shit eating brother?

He wanted my iPad.

He tackled me.

And I attacked him with a cat brush. A WIRE cat brush, which hurts when you slap people with it.

And then I ran.

Twenty minutes later, I kept repeating seven words to myself.

What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was. I. Thinking.

And guess who had the decency to turn up then?

“Fuck off Daniel,” I mumbled.

“I thought you could use the company.” He fell in pace beside me.

“Well, no. You were wrong.”

There was silence.

Äny idea where you’re going?” he asked me.

“City,” I said. “Then…I’m not sure.”

“Get to the police. They’ll tell you where you can go.”

“They’ve got better things to do that help a runaway,” I pointed out.

“Maybe. But this is your ass we are talking about. I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to it.”

I ignored Daniel. We walked another two hundred metres before he finally spoke again. And after he spoke, a different seven worded sentence consumed my brain.

Well, when I say Daniel spoke, he was actually singing.

Out of the blue, he started. And I will walk five hundred miles…”

“Fuck off.”

This was going to be a long night…

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