My Life · Sal Stories · Writing

750 Words

An online friend kindly reminded me of a site I first became aware of in high school or college, I can’t remember which. I used to use it regularly, but as time passed, it escaped my daily routine.

The site is called 750 Words. What you see is what you get. The goal of the site is to encourage writers to write 750 words — 3 pages — every day.

I don’t remember my original login information, so I created a new account and thought, “What the heck? Why not write 750 words?”

So I did just that. All impromptu. No prior thought. I wrote the first words that came to my mind (and I don’t think anyone will be surprised at whose brain I decided to tap into).

I ended up with 755 words.

I purred and rubbed up against her. My head massaged against her chest. The vibrations coming from my throat intensified. Louder and louder.

My head dove into her bosom and I walked across her hips, purring and purring. My motor is running quite loudly.

Her head ran over my head and neck and back. I just kept purring.

Then I saw it. It glimmered, even through the darkness. I wanted it. My excitement grew as my mouth opened and my teeth sunk into the gem.

She pushed me away and said, “Stop!” I pushed back, though, and proceeded to use my mouth to maneuver for the gem on her shirt. I needed it!

She pushed me away again, and I kept fighting. I was bound and determined to get my way, even if I could tell she was getting angry. I did not care.

Then she pushed me off her lap, and my four legs landed on the ground. I scoffed in disgust as I walked away. I watched her pull out her laptop, and she began hammering her hands on the keyboard. What was so important on that laptop, anyway?

I don’t like the sounds of the keyboard. It hurts my ears. But my feet feel filthy, so I begin licking the dirty away with my tongue as I watch her. I hear a door slam, and she looks up at me every now and then. I’m waiting for the right moment to jump back up on her.

For now, I decide to let her be and I give it a rest. I jump back on the couch, but instead of moving my way over the keyboard, I hop over to the table beside the couch. I sit down and decide to give myself a full wash.

Cleaning myself always begins with my feet. During the day, my feet always manage to get the dirtiest. I imagine it’s because of the box I do my business in. It’s not like my human scoops my waste out as frequently as I wish she would, but even when she does, grains of litter constantly are getting stuck in my paws.

Plus, the carpet in this place isn’t the most sanitary. As much as I hate the sound of the vacuum cleaner, my human should probably vacuum more often. There’s dust and dirty all over the place, all the time.

And don’t get me started on the kitchen, which is where my food and water bowl resides. I’ll admit, I’m a bit messy, and my food gets all over the place when I’m eating. Still, my human could take the time out of her busy schedule to mop every single day. It would surely be more productive than making loud hammering noises on that keyboard of hers.

All right, I have had enough. I walk over the armrest and plop down on her arms. She’s laying on her stomach, typing erratically on that keyboard still. What the hell could she be typing? I rub my body against her, and then I stand up and stick my butt in her face. That should get her attention, right? I’ve just licked my butt, and let me tell you, it’s definitely not something I would want to smell.

She pushes me down, and my motor is running again as I effectively show her love and affection. Believe me, I know humans, and they like it when we purr and all. It gets their attention, and that’s all I guess I really want. I really want to get the human’s attention, so she’ll come put more food in my dish and play with me. See, I’m being nice by purring and rubbing up against her! Why can’t she stop typing long enough to give me some attention?

I’m bored. The human isn’t paying attention. I fly off the couch and walk back into the kitchen, where I discover there are a few bits of kibble remaining in my dish. Yum, I think, and I munch away.

The human can’t type forever, can she? Eventually she’ll have to stop and pay attention to me. If nothing else, she’ll need to stop and feed herself. Usually she feeds herself before she feeds me, because apparently her nourishment is more important than mine.

Okay, I’m walking back over to her. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do next. I contemplate wreaking havoc, but maybe I will just sit here for a few more minutes.

Forget it. I’m laying down on that damn keyboard!

The site then gives you stats on your writing. You can view my stats here. Apparently, I was “feeling mostly” affectionate and “concerned most about” eating and drinking.


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