Meeting Cat Madigan


Okay, time to get creative!

Speaking of which, there’s a new Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared video out. I thought they said they’d never be creative again, though to be fair, the notepad said that, not the clock.

Anyway, it’s another DP Challenge! Yayyyyyyyy.

This week, I’m writing from the perspective of someone very close to me, and someone I care very much about.

…or I could just get Daniel to write this.

Yeah! Let’s talk to Daniel. Come on out Daniel.


“How much do you want?”

“Two embarrassing selfies and a chocolate bar.”


It was a mess. Black blood on the floor, and she was huddled up in a ball. There were marks on her neck where the thing’s hands were.
“Hey!” I shook her. “Wake up!”
She didn’t respond, but she felt like she was on fire. I splashed some water along her hairline and waited. This shouldn’t take too long.
Finally, she woke up. “It’s cold,” she whispered.
“Wait till your temperature has gone down a slight,” I told her.
She tried to stand, but she fell down quickly. “Don’t try to walk yet,” I told her. “Readjust first.”
Obediently, she didn’t make another attempt. She sat up, resting against her door. She stared blankly in front of her, no life in her pale face. What had those things done?
Then she looked at me, eyes wide and uncertain. “Who are you?” she asked.
I took off my hat. “I’m Daniel. At your service.”
“What? Ugh…” She closed her eyes, and reopened them. “What are you doing here?”
I smile. “Well, I saved your life, for one.”
“You did?” She frowned. “Will they be back?”
My smile quickly fades. “Not tonight,” I say slowly.
“But later?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
She just shrugs. Then she looks up again. “Are you real?”
“What do you mean?”
She grimaces. “Are you from the same place they are?”
“…yeah.” I remembered why I came. “What’s your name?”
“My- I’m Cat. Cat Madigan.”
“So I had found the right one.”
“The right one?”
I sit down beside her. “Have you seen a girl with blue hair around?”
She nods once. “She mentioned you,” I informed her. “You were the only one noticing her.”
Cat frowned. Then she sprang up. “My friend,” she said. “I was talking-”
“It’s fine, go ahead.”
The rest of the night was a blur. She talked to her friend, and I dissolved into background for the rest of the night.
When she was done though, she looked around for me. “Daniel?”
Stay silent, I told myself. I had done my work. It was harder when she started crying, but she fell asleep quickly, and I left.

“Hello,” I said the next day.
Looking back now, I understand why she crashed into her cupboard, but at the time, I ended up scaring her even more.
Twenty minutes later, she had calmed down enough. “Why are you here now?”
“Checking on you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember yesterday?”
“What about it? Nothing happened, really.”
“What d’you mean?”
“It wasn’t real,” she said. She would repeat that a lot after every incident, I noticed.
I just sighed. “Can you tell me about you?”
I frowned. “Why?”
Don’t give anything away, the voice in my head screamed. “Look. You seem like a nice girl, and I can’t imagine how you got caught up in this,” I quoted from the speech I had rehearsed before. “I might be able to stop the monsters. But only if you tell me everything.”
Cat thought for a moment. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really.”
“Okay then.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” she said.
I was surprised at that. She seemed younger. “You go to school?”
“Yeah, I’m in year ten now.”
“Right.” I breathe out. “Got any friends?”
“Melody, Izzy, Evil One, Snugglepot, Bad Dog, Batman, Papa Willis-” she recited.
“Question answered,” I broke her off. She stuck her tongue out at me. I frowned. “What was that for?”
Cat shook her head. “Sorry.”
I sighed. “You got a boyfriend?”
Cat’s face lit up. “Yeah, Potch,” she told me.
“Do you do drugs?”
“No.” She made a face.
“Do you sniff paint?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “And I don’t dabble in black magic either.”
“I didn’t mention black magic.”
“It was going to come up.”
“Yeah, it was,” I admitted. “Are you mentally ill?”
“Probably. Monsters that no one else can see are trying to kill me at night.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing you know for certain?”
“No. How much more is there?”
“That’s almost it,” I told her.

Something Different


Last night, I started to make a list.

Yes, it is sort of mean.

At the very least it is certainly not politically correct.

I name this list…Names of Stereotypical Bimbos.

These names, when you hear them, can often be associated with women wearing pink lipstick and very small tops, which barely cover enormous…enhancements. Enhancements which compensate for what is in these women’s heads.

Alright, now shut up! Yes, this is definitely not a nice thing to write, but I’m not really a nice person, now am I? And think of all the bimbos you see on TV. Or even people you may know in real life.

Fine…mainly TV.

The point is, there’s so many names which, like it or not, we automatically link with these people on television, who are often the unsuspecting prey to the serial womaniser. Yes, I’m looking at you Barney Stinson.

Now as a beforehand, yes, you non-existent readers may have these names. And you may be geniuses with IQ’s double my own. Like I said, this list is far from being politically correct. So please, if you don’t like this sort of thing, DO NOT READ IT. It’s only for a bit of a laugh, for horrible people like me. And if you do decide to read this, despite being against stereotypes, it is not my fault if you are offended by this list.

Do we understand, imaginary readers, who are nice and lovely and pure?

…Or at least readers who are offended by stereotypes of pretty bimbos?

Alright, now stop reading.

For the rest of you…

Now, here’s an example of how mean I can be.

Behold…The Names of Stereotypical Bimbos List.

Or by it’s alternate title, What Not To Call Your Daughter. And no, I cannot be more creative than that.


Candy. Or Kandy. Or worse, Kandi. Or even worse, the dreaded double i…. Kandii. *shudder*

Crystal. Or Krystal. Seriously, who thought it would be a good idea to put in a K instead of a C in Crystal? It makes it even more tacky.

Amber. Personally, I don’t know what’s wrong with Amber, but my mother apparently skipped the name when naming me, because it sounded like a stripper’s name.

Barbie. I always hated Barbie as a kid. She always seemed too goody goody to be an actual human being. So whenever I hear the name on another person, I end up associating them with the stupid doll. I’m a horrible person…but seriously, why would you name your daughter after the iconic doll? You’re putting them through years of PAIN!!

Bambi. Or Bambii, (ewwwwwwww). The name belongs to an adorable little deer, who is incredibly innocent. Of course, this name is suitable when your baby is an adorable little girl, with big innocent eyes. But it’s pretty tacky on a grown woman.

Skipper. Wasn’t that Barbie’s little sister or something? Whatever. I always felt that Skipper sounded like the daughter that lived in her sisters shadow, and would probably go into the sex, drugs and alcohol scene as she strove to make her own image. Nuff said.


Or anything that ends with the sound “eek”.

Kelly. Or Kelli. Double i doesn’t look like it would work here, so I’ll just stick with Kelli. But for some reason, I cannot take the name Kelly/Kelli seriously. It sounds like the name of a little girl, not really one for a grown woman.

Honey. Yes, How I Met Your Mother may have influenced this a bit, but when you think about it, yeah, it does sort of fit.

Tiffany. Or, its evil twins, Tiffani and Tiffanii.

Brittany, Brittani and Brittanii.

Cindy, Cindi and Cindii. Again, names which belong to a little girl, and not a grown woman.

Hayley or Haylee.

Paris. And for the record, this name would’ve never been on the list if it hadn’t been for the infamous Hilton. A name that once suggested culture and sophistication now implies sex tape and spoilt rich girlness.

Lexi. Rhymes with sexy. And that’s the first thing that comes to mind when one hears that name. Doesn’t matter if you’re a physicist or an engineer; Lexi will always be associated with sexy.

Diamond. Or worse, Diamond spelt incorrectly. Aka. Diammond, Dyamond, etc.

Sky or Skye.

Nicky, Nicki, Nikki (ulgh….)



Chloe, or worse, Khloe.


Stacey, or Stacee.

Baby. Although, I cannot imagine anyone naming their child Baby. Nickname, maybe. Actual name, no. Unless they happened to be on crack when writing down the name of the birth certificate.

Casey, or Kasey.

Kelsy, Kelsie, Kelsi.

Sally, Sallie or Salli.

Sandy. Though fortunately, it can be lengthened to Sandra, so they don’t have to face the embarrassment in the workplace.

Charity. Slutty girl who’s only thoughts involve makeup and hair, and her name is Charity. Walking contradiction!

Hope. Ditto.

Faith. Again, ditto.

Just about any adjective which is used as a name!

So that concludes my Bimbo Name List.

Yes, I know. I am a horrible person. My mother tells me this daily, so don’t bother reminding me. I warned you, non existent reader.

One thing I’ve noticed about these names is that the majority of them are incredibly cutesy. They’re more often nicknames for a little girl, rather than actual names. Parents might give these names to their little baby girls, and because they are babies and they’re adorable, it’s acceptable.

But the thing is, these babies get older. And they grow into independent women, who will come to despise the name Bambi or Sally or whatever name you gave them when they start working in industries where little girl names are unquestionably laughable. It may even start earlier. Or they’ll choose to stay a little girl. Mentally anyway. I mean, the alternative is to get picked on in the workplace, so why go into one then? Why not just remain a pretty little girl?

So. Two options then; the eternal hate of your daughter, or at the very least, the fact that your daughter will never hit her full potential.

Oh, and lets not forget about the dreaded ‘double i’s’. Or even just names with an i instead of a y at the end. And let’s not forget names that are horribly misspelt. That’s right Krystal/Kristal. And you two aren’t the only culprits. It’s like people seem to think that changing the letters of a word makes it a creative name. Kristal is not a creative name.

…I sound like that notepad on Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.

Then again, I am being incredibly bigoted at the moment. Everything I have mentioned thus far are stereotypes. It’s not just girls called Candy who become bimbos, and at the same time, people who are called Candy can achieve great things. Though to be fair, these stereotypes have to come from somewhere…

Oh dear…

So for those non existent readers who don’t hate my guts at the moment, here’s Question of the Day.

Actual, two Questions of the Day.

For those kind souls out there, here’s this one: What names do you hate? I think all of you non existent readers have met at least one person who’s name you can’t stand. Or maybe you hate a name because of a certain person. Tell me about it!

For those people who are horrible, like me, here’s your Question of the Day. Actually, it’s more of a challenge. Add more names to my Bimbo list! If I can do it, you can do it. C’mon guys, let’s get creative!!!

Wait, nononononononono….

Anyway, being horrible is tiring, so I shall go now.

Also, Part Three of Cat Runs Away is coming out tomorrow, so stay tuned, for the adventures of a horrible person.

Mad Cat.