The Cat and The Hatchet

A horrifying twist on the cat and the hat

collaboration with the amazingly talented kittiasher


There once was a girl named Sammy McKay,
Who sadly did suffer a very bad day.

It started out fine, but soon it turned rotten,
As all pleasantries were swiftly forgotten.

She sat on a bench, all alone in her room,
And stared out the glass at the foggy gray gloom.

"Oh I wish," she had said, "to go out and go run,
But alas I'm stuck here, for today has no sun."

So she sat, cross-legged to admire her shoes
As today's boring day, offered nothing to do.

When all of a sudden… a low scratch at her door
So she rose to inspect what the noise was all for.

"Who is it?" she asked, but was met with stiff silence,
With an innocent heart, she did not expect violence.

As the knob turned in hand, there rose a daunting loud chuckle,
And after seeing the visitor, her knees shook and near buckled.

With chunks of meat missing, it was furry and lean,
A cat… unlike anything Sammy had seen.

Quite the contradiction, it was not cute at all,
In fact, it was frightening, grim, grizzled, and tall.

Ominous in her door, it stood defying her eyes,
Wearing a striped woolly hat and a bloody bow-tie.

With devil ears, a thin grin and skin decaying away,
It curiously greeted, "Hello, Miss McKay."

Oh goodness…the smell, she fought to stomach the stench,
The rancid breath matching its hellish accent.

From the grave, with bared fangs, and now out on the prowl,
The dead creature crooned loud with a horrid meow.

The Cat cracked its neck before standing on hinds,
Extending its paw, pretending it kind.

Protruding from putrid guts were its ribs exposed,
Eyes of pure evil in slits above its nose.

But Sammy, with her brilliant 12-year-old mind,
Knew better than to trust the zombie feline.

"What do you want?" she asked the rotting nightmare,
Confronting the corpse without the good-sense of fear.

It flicked its tail to the side, firmly biting its lip,
Scratched the bones sticking out, stating, "My name is Rip.

"I've come here for fun and to play and do tricks,"
Then it tipped off its cap, and out fell a stained brick.

The cat picked it up and stepped over the threshold,
And its malicious look increased intensity ten-fold.

Its stride defined felines, but design defied reality,
Dead, on two legs, its voice oozing lethality.

Sensing something amiss, Sammy attempted retreat,
But fear seized her mid-step and tripped up her feet.

Rip smiled sinister, closed and bolted the door,
"I've games to play, or we can invent even more."

Sammy stared at the horrible visage, wanting to hide,
But she merely stood mute, her eyes glassy and wide.

The cat seized her hand, "It's a fine rainy day,
Now you've let the Cat in, and I'm ready to play."

"Wait!" Sammy cried, and took back her hand,
To let in a stranger was not what she'd planned.

With a sideways glance, Rip showed her the brick,
"Mother won't mind… it's a super-neat trick."

Without mercy or warning, Rip swung hard at her head,
She was out like a light and he watched as she bled.

The feline fiend dragged her stiff form upstairs to creep
Where her mom and baby-boy sibling stayed asleep.

His paws tied the knots that restrained legs and arms,
Then he waited for her to wake before doing them harm.

First he gathered his toys, and then sized up his prey,
Grinning from thoughts of killing off the family McKay.

Rip lifted his sharp hatchet to the baby boy's cheek,
And etched the blade deeper until it sliced open meat.

But then he refrained, needing a witness to his villainous role
In order to accomplish his goal, and crush an innocent soul.

Finally, her eyes fluttered wide, she cried and she screamed,
Knowing this bloody, horrible scene was more than mere dream.

"What are you doing, you cat? This is not how you play!"
And then Sammy was silent, for Rip had something to say.

"Oh, but this is how we play, down in the bowels of hell!
All my playmates would scream, yelp, holler and yell!

"But I've been banished from there, so I brought my games here.
Shall I show you how I toy with my playthings, my dear?

"I reap with this hatchet, like my old owner, Grim,"
And with a jovial grin, he dismembered a limb.

Wide-eyed in horror, a shriek escaped poor Sammy McKay,
But her mother never stirred, her baby brother didn't bray.

Rip's slitted eyes consumed her and blood painted the walls,
As the blade danced with grace between sharpened claws.

"I was abandoned by my owner, and I saw you all alone,
I thought we could be friends… if I offered you a bone."

With twisted intent, it lifted up her brother's leg,
Tossed the limb onto her lap and began to celebrate.

With a gasp and a scream, Sammy tried to kick and flail,
To squirm away from the limb, but she surely did fail.

The Cat took the hatchet and turned back to the boy,
Picked up the pace and began to laugh with pure joy.

"For a squeal, your c-sharp is perfect, Miss McKay,
But now, for an arm, what sound will you make?"

Sammy hollered aloud, "No!" and strained at her ropes,
But the Cat went on chopping despite all her hopes.

"Now I'll show that Grim Reaper how greatness is measured,"
And with one more big swing, the boy's head was then severed.

Rip turned to Sammy with his frown upside-down,
The blood on the weapon dripping to the ground.

"If I cut loose your ropes, are you ready to play?
I'll toss the head there, and you kick it this way!"

In front of dead eyes, the child's innocence died,
In awe, she watched awfully, too disturbed to cry.

"Why?" she whispered softly, voice dead and destroyed,
She stared at the boy, "Why… why…?" all emotion devoid.

His eyes she did avoid when he turned at her request,
Answering her question quick as a pen upon a test.

"It is what I do best, as the former-pet of Death,
But my owner left me… so… aren't you impressed?"

Impossible to fathom the scene, the Cat, and what it queried,
She wondered if in the backyard is where she'd be buried.

"No! No! No!" cried Sammy out loud, "this is not how we play!
Please, please!" she bawled, "Don't kill Mommy McKay!"

The hatchet spun in its claws as the cat descended,
Its face contorted even worse, and now terror transcended.

"Now listen here," said the Cat, "I've come a very long way,
"After brimstone and pain, I've awaited this day.

"To find a new friend, and teach them my trade.
Now hold the hatchet in hand, feel the weight of the blade."

With a flick of his claws, Rip cut the rope from her arm,
Put the grip in her hand, "Now, my girl, do some harm!"

In the midst of the gore, poor Sammy stood numb,
"Like this," it instructed, "now grip with your thumb."

Like a marionette in his paws, Sammy spun and danced,
Just another plaything under his hypnotic trance.

They danced a fine jig in her mother's room,
So much so that it even parted the gloom.

Sammy sang gaily as they danced and they swung,
And then from the rafters her mother was hung.

But all too soon, the giddy dance came to an end,
And the girl was left with wounds too big to mend.

"What have we done!" Sammy cried, "Look at the blood!"
"Now-now," Rip crooned with a purr, "it was just getting fun."

As if the ghost of miracles had finally come alive,
Sammy took her one and only chance to survive.

She fled from the freshly dead, she ran away from fears,
She tried to hide from feeling pain, but couldn't shake her tears.

"Little Sammy…" Rip purred to mask his anger
As he tip-toed ever closer to a life he endangered

Even after running, the Cat still had her trapped,
And when Rip finally found her, he leaned in to attack.

"We have one last game to play, my dear, between you and me.
And perhaps… when it's done and over… perhaps then you'll see."

Its laughter bore into her, dissecting through her heart,
Then the Cat with the hatchet, ripped the poor girl apart.

The police came shortly thereafter, and found Sammy red,
A cut open wrist, blood-soaked shirt and chopped up family dead.

They say the little girl Sammy made up the Cat to excuse,
Or that she really is crazy, and murder made her confused.

So if you read this story, and you now sympathize with her,
Next time you're with Samantha, look out for Cat the Ripper.