Playing Cat and Mouse with Slimy Sid
Playing Cat and Mouse
Slimy Sid thought he was the cat’s whiskers. His smooth gait oozed arrogance and his smile slithered into people’s heads, leaving a slimy discomfort. He liked playing cat and mouse with his victims.
He was propping up the bar in the ‘Cat and Fiddle’ down the High Street. An overweight, wheezing man pushed his way from the door through the melée and hoisted his bulk onto a bar stool.
“Oh, look what the cat dragged in!’ Sid sneered.
The larger man looked daggers at him and ordered a beer with a whisky chaser. Sid had his own weapon ready,
“I’m still waiting for that information, Brady. You know who nicked that crack from my van.”
Brady’s silence annoyed him, causing his veneer to slip a little.
“Cat got your tongue, you slob?” Sid’s spit-slavered lips were inches from Brady’s nose. “Think you can dodge your way out of this one? Think again. I’ll give you ’til 6 tonight.”
Sid, re-cloaked in his smug smile, knocked back his own drink and sneaked out onto the street where composure deserted him again as he almost fell over the pub’s black cat which darted into the building with the ease its nine lives afforded him. Local kids reckoned the cat was the familiar of Slick Sally, whom they were convinced was the neighbourhood witch despite her daytime job of postmistress.
Slick Sally Offers to Help
Sally was watching, slit-eyed like that cat of hers. That night, as Sid ducked the rain on the way to his van, crossing the road at a lick, he slipped on one of the shimmering cats’ eyes. Sally happened to be passing. She seemed to glide up to him,
“Can I help you?” Her voice miaowed at him.
“B… off! Nosey, catty old witch. You know what they say, don’t you? Curiosity killed the cat!”
“Just thought you might be hurt. I’ll leave you alone. This might soothe your leg if you care to try it.”
She dropped a pack of white powder into his hand.
Even in the shabby shadows, he looked like the cat who got the cream. The Cheshire Cat grin revealed shining teeth, teeth which he smeared with the white powder. He’d got it back; somehow she’d found it or maybe she’d stolen it in the first place? He’d make her pay and next time he saw that black cat of hers he’d kick it to kingdom come, that’d stop it caterwauling all night when he was trying to sleep.
Brady Turns the Tables
Brady appeared, a ghost from the bricks, voice shattering the night air.
“Think you’re clever, do you, Slimy Sid! Think you can bully us? Well, I’ve got news for you.”
His own caterwauling had drawn attention from a few occupants whose curtains were twitching.
“Want to know what happened to that stuff of yours, you stupid slime-ball? I’ll tell you. It’s at the police station, along with a statement from me and from that kid who calls himself a dealer. Thought I was on your side, did ‘ya? Look at my badge and weep!”
Sid was hopping up and down like a cat on a hot tin roof. Something was not right. His mouth had started to burn, his stomach was churning and his legs wouldn’t obey his befuddled brain.
Slowly, Slimy Sid sank to the slippery surface beneath him. Slick Sally reappeared, looking down at him with disdain,
“That’ll teach you to entertain thoughts of kicking my cat! Sour milk for you with a dose of prison thrown in. If you’re lucky I’ll find the antidote to that by morning.”
Source photo: black_cat_1570084645.png
For more works by this author see Ann Carr on The Creative Exiles.
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‘Take a Word…’ by Ann Carr is a self-publication of short stories and poems, designed to encourage others to write creatively, to project their own voice, even create their own words. ISBN: 9798754336476