Sibling rivalry, p.1
Sibling Rivalry, page 1
Sibling Rivalry
Short Story
M.E. Purfield
Published by trash books, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SIBLING RIVALRY
First edition. December 8, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 M.E. Purfield.
ISBN: 979-8223700623
Written by M.E. Purfield.
Also by M.E. Purfield
Auts Series
Auts
Books About Everyone
The Satellite
The Ableism of Salvation
What Sorrow Flies Off Roofs
The King of Dodgeball Goes with the Flow
When the Lights Go Out
Blunt Force Kharma
Bound Kharma
Kharma's Pursuit
Kharma's Glitch
Kharma's Gatto
Blunt Force Kharma
Cities That Eat Islands
Cities That Eat Islands (Book 1)
Cities That Eat Islands (Book 2)
Cities That Eat Islands (Book 3)
Fish Hunt
Cities That Hide Bodies
Complete Cities That Eat Islands
Miki Radicci
A Black Deeper Than Death
In a Blackened Sky Where Dreams Collide
Blood Like Cherry Ice
Surly Girly
Bawling Sugar Soul
A Girl Close to Death
Heart on the Devil's Sleeve
Sinking Stones in the Sky
The Ghost and the Stream
Expressway Thru the Skull
Hacker's Moon
Miki Radicci Shorts
The Ultimate Miki Radicci Series Omnibus Vol 1
Miranda Crowe
Bagged
Munki Moo Moo
Munki Moo Moo
Radicci Sisters Mystery
Psychic Sisters
My Dead Body
Saints
Squeezed
Broken Psychic Hearts
The Emptiness Above
The Sludge Below
Doe
Auties
The Killer
The Deceiver
Favors
Bumper
Rats In The Cage
Short Story
Natural Born Killer
Limits of Stupidity
MiLK
Orange Flecks
Through Tangled Nerves
The Creative
Defective Brain Club
Line
The Van Outside
Doorway Down
Just
Short of a Long Holiday
Lifetime Hallmark Scheme
Malignant Little Bastards
Pain Killer
Sibling Rivalry
Stories
A Sandwich Can't Stop A Bullet
The Morrows
Joyrides for Shut-Ins
How To Make Friends with Teenage Anarchists
Tenebrous Chronicles
Party Girl Crashes the Rapture
Angel Spits
Six Feet
Tweens with Pop Guns
Lightning From The Fire
The Subject
Tenebrous Two
Standalone
Breaking Fellini
Delicate Cutters
Jesus Freakz + Buddha Punx
Buddha Punx + Ghetto Girlz
Klepto Pyro Mojo
American Standard
The Pick-Up
(R)Evolution
Angst
Watch for more at M.E. Purfield’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By M.E. Purfield
Dedication
Sibling Rivalry
Bonus Story: | Those Kids
Free Short Story
M.E. Purfield’s Patreon
Further Reading: The Pick-Up
About the Author
Deepest thanks to my Patreon supporters who make this story possible. Mary Monzon, Mike Mallory, Christy Lynn Margaret, Ann Purfield, and Allen Richards; you are the best!
Sibling Rivalry
The front door clicked shut and woke me up on the couch. Usually, I sleep next to Kerry’s wide, puffy feet on our bed but playing with that flapping fish toy exhausted me so much that I fell right to sleep on the living room floor afterward.
Peering through the darkness, I watched a tall, dark two-legged cat walk across the room and down the hall. Their weight creaked the hardwood floor. I stretched my arms out and sniffed the air. The two-legged cat smelled like onions and had black fur on his face. Those kinds of cats were usually hairless. It must have been wearing a mask.
The bedroom door down the hall closed. I stepped off the couch and thumped on the floor. Yes, I gained weight since I moved into Kerry’s apartment. Back at the vet office, I was a stunning ten pounds. Long, sleek, muscular. A damn handsome black cat with piercing eyes. Of course, she had to give me a home, food, back rubs, anything I desired, and never knew I desired.
The food did me in. Nothing like what the vet ever gave me or what I could find on the streets. But after a few years, the vet, who for some reason we kept returning to so he could poke me and shine a light in my eyes, said I had gained five pounds. Too much wet food. Poor Kerry fell for his lies. Her eyes widened with fright.
At first, she fed me crunchy food. As good as it was, it never satisfied. I needed the wet stuff. I loved saucy fish and chicken. I screamed at her. I died over and over at dinner time. She tried to ignore me or cuddle me, convince me that it was for my own good. But I was persistent. I turned on the charm. I rolled around on my back and showed her my belly. No one was able to resist my belly fur and nipples. Especially women. Eventually, Kerry fed me a quarter of the can.
The portion satisfied for now but I was determined to eat a whole can a night.
I stopped at the bedroom door, stood on my hind legs, and pawed the top, my nails almost touching the knob. Usually, it opened but not now. I tried again. Even wedged my nose between the door and frame. No go. I screamed out for her to open it.
Something banged on the other side. Kerry screamed as if she saw a mouse or roach. Now, I had to enter. I did not tolerate invaders in my home. The scream died into a dry gargle.
Gargling sounds were not common for her. Like she was trying to breathe through a hairball.
I yowled and scratched, demanding entry.
The door finally opened and a pair of legs rushed out. I dashed out of their way and screamed at them but they tripped on me anyway.
“Mangy cat,” they said with a dark, husky voice.
I hissed and pulled my ears back. They ran down the hall and out of the apartment, slamming the door behind them. Good. I saved them a serious scratching.
I walked into the bedroom and hopped onto Kerry’s bed. She lay on her back, her paws out, her eyes and mouth open. I asked her who was that rude two-legged black cat. She didn’t answer.
I nosed her paw, and tried to get her to pet me. It wouldn’t move. It felt a bit heavy and cold, not as warm as usual.
She smelled different, too. A decay. It reminded me of the dead cats at the vet.
Oh, no. She must be dead, too.
I licked her hand and then cuddled against her hip.
I was going to miss her. She was the best slave. How was I going to replace her? Did I have to sniff out someone new? Leave the apartment? That seemed like a bad idea. I enjoyed looking out the window but it was not a place I wanted to venture in again.
I forced myself not to think about it. I rested my chin on my feet, tucked my tail, and closed my eyes. This would be our last time together. I took full advantage of it.
**
I screamed in the box. I had never been so mad and scared. At first, I was scared that Lynda was going to return me to the vet when she shoved me inside. Did I do something wrong? Did she think I killed Kerry? Why this punishment?
Since Kerry died I had been roaming the apartment, making sure no mice or bugs snuck inside. Her odor increased but it was also sweeter. I started gnawing on her fingers (something she never let me do) and enjoyed the soft sensation and taste of blood. The litter box was filling up but I could always use the bath tube. The crunchy bowl was dwindling. But the faucet in the bathroom dripped water so I drank from there. One should prepare for the worse, though. I started yowling by the closed apartment door and the windows that looked down at the street two floors below.
Lynda, who lived down the hall, heard me after the second sunrise. She first knocked on the door and called out Kerry’s name. Since she was dead, I responded for her.
“Max?” she asked. “Is that you darling?”
I said it was.
The knob turned and the door opened. Lynda peeked her wrinkled head inside. Her gray hair was in curlers, and she wore a blue fur on top and black on the bottom. She was younger than Kerry but not by much. She didn’t need a big stick to move around. I never saw her take fifty pills a day. Lynda mentioned a job that was probably out in the hall. Kerry only left to gather food or to see a friend. She often said she was on a fixed budget. Whatever that meant.
“Max,” she said, picking me up. “Why so loud?”
&nbs p; I told her I was worried about my food and my little box was stacked with my poop and pee.
“Is Kerry home?” she asked, ignoring my words. “She shouldn’t leave her door unlocked like that.”
As she held me and scratched my head, Lynda called out for Kerry and walked to her bedroom. When she saw her body on the bed, she dropped me to the floor (how rude) and ran to the kitchen.
Soon the apartment was filled with two-legged cats in blue fur and Kerry’s body was taken away. They said that someone strangled Kerry. I knew of some cats who were strangled on the streets. It was a terrible way to die. Kerry didn’t deserve that fate. No cat did.
I was left alone in the apartment but Lynda returned a few times a day to make sure I was fed, brushed, and cleaned. I thought she was going to move in. She would have made a good slave. I liked the way her fingers rubbed my nipples.
Now, I was in her car and going back to the vet.
But the building we parked at looked nothing like the vet’s office. Fewer windows, brown, and a lot of two-legged cats with dark fur and dangling leashes. Not a four-legged cat or dog in sight.
Keeping me in the box, Lynda brought me inside. The space was peaceful but it smelled horrible. Musty. I pulled my ears back and growled. Someone needed to be scratched badly.
“I know, Max,” Lynda said, sniffling. “We shouldn’t be here for long.”
But why were we here?
A two-legged cat with perfect fur on his head and a dangling leash smiled at us and invited Lynda and me into a room. He said his name was Mr. Finney. A lawyer, whatever that was. Pretty sure it had nothing to do with the vet.
“Where should I put Max,” Lynda asked.
“On my desk, of course,” he said. “But leave him in the cage.”
I had no plans to leave the cage now. They would have to use the paws of life.
Lynda placed me down. I recognized Kerry’s son Lonnie and his wife sitting across from me. They were much younger. Last I heard, Lonnie had his forty-first birthday. He looked nothing like her. No similarity in fur or bone shape. He had a mean face, always scrunched. His fur was greasy. He always appeared dirty, even now with his black and white fur and red leash. I never liked him. He yelled a lot when he came over to visit.
His wife, Ellen, seemed the same way. She smiled a lot. Something I never trusted about two-legged cats. Maybe because I was a bit prejudiced against them. A cat without a tail? Two-legged cats never sniffed each others’ butts? How were you supposed to trust them? Anyway, I sensed a frown behind her pale, lined face and dark eyes. Plus, she had curly fur. Not short hair like Kerry and I or long hair like Lynda. What was that about? Was she deeply diseased?
Mr. Finney thanked everyone for coming and started to read from a sheet of paper. It was called a Will. It mentioned Kerry’s name and mine. When he finished, Lonnie leaned forward and tightened his paws.
“That’s it?” he asked. “No mention of me?”
I didn’t hear Finney say Lonnie’s name. That was another thing about two-legged cats. Their hearing was bad.
“Was she of sound mind when she made this?” Ellen asked, chuckling but not happy.
“Oh, yes,” Finney said. “She was very healthy. And very clear.”
“But it’s a cat,” Ellen said. “She left all her money to a cat?”
“In trust for Ms. Lynda Daniels to administer, who will also receive a weekly stipend for her time,” Finney said. “And she does mention her son, Lionel. If Max should die then Lionel Dexter will inherit the remaining balance.”
“This is insane!” He slammed his paw on the side of the chair. “A goddamn cat.”
“So does the beast move into a mansion or something,” Ellen slurred.
“Oh, no,” Finney said. “Ms. Daniels requested that he remain in the apartment which the estate will continue to pay rent on.”
“Do you believe this?” Lonnie asked Lynda at his side.
Lynda shrugged.
“She did love Max,” she said. “I sort of can.”
“She loved a cat more than her son?”
Lynda looked away. I sensed she wanted to say something. Maybe reveal that Kerry had no kind words for Lonnie or Ellen.
“I may be out of line for saying this,” Lynda said. “But your mother was murdered. If she was my mother, I would be more concerned with who killed her than her money.”
“You’re right,” Lonnie said. “You are out of line. For your information, I am concerned about who killed my mother. I trust the police will find out soon.”
The room fell into peace. My tail hit the sides of the box.
“Look at it this way,” Lynda said. “Max is fourteen-years-old. He doesn’t have many years left.”
I pulled my ears back. I had lots of years left. I felt great. What did she know?
“Cats can live past twenty years of age,” Ellen said. “It could be six years until we see that money. What’s left of it.”
“I am not waiting six years,” Lonnie said.
We locked eyes for a moment. A greasy feeling pressed against my nose. I pulled my ears back and growled to let him know that I hated him.
**
Many suns went by. Lynda visited my apartment a few times a day. She performed all the tasks that Kerry did when she was alive. But it wasn’t the same. Kerry was always around. I had constant attention. Even when I slept she petted my head. She always talked to me and cooked interesting smells in the kitchen. Sometimes she dropped a piece of chicken or fish on the floor or let me lick the sauces off her plate. Lynda couldn’t do any of that unless she lived here and I doubted she would move in.
“You have such beautiful fur,” she said, brushing me on the couch. “Kerry would gush over you if she saw you now.”
Yes, she would. Kerry often said the same thing when she pampered me. My shiny, sleek black fur.
“My poor Max,” Lynda said. “You must miss Kerry as much as I do.”
I looked into her eyes and told her I missed her a lot.
Lynda sniffled and said with a choked voice, “I hope they find that bastard soon and make him pay for what he did to you and Kerry.”
I flopped onto my side so she could brush my belly more and told her that I hoped so, too.
“Between you and me, I think Lonnie had something to do with it.”
I propped myself onto my elbow and looked at her. Did she really think so?
“Maybe I’m so desperate for answers. The police questioned him first but they didn’t arrest him. He must have had an alibi at the time of her mur...death.”
I had no idea what an alibi was but I would kill it if I could. Lonnie seemed like the obvious choice, too. He was always angry with Kerry. Punching the walls or knocking over chairs. If he came for money, she never gave it to him.
Lynda placed the brush down, scooped me up, and hugged me tightly.
“Well, I hope they find the man responsible soon,” she said. “Just so, so terrible.”
I hated it when someone picked me up after a brushing. It always messed up my perfect coat. I wiggled, and she placed me back on the couch.
“Sorry, Max,” she said, smiling.
I forgave her.
**
I was sleeping on the bed when I heard the noises from the hall. The sheets and blanket were the same since Kerry was murdered. Lynda never changed them. She knew that Kerry’s scent would soothe me and it did. When the sun went down, I preferred to breathe it in and fall asleep as if she were with me.
Footsteps and voices. A male and a female. I wasn’t expecting Lynda until the next sun. Did she forget something? Why did she bring a male friend?
With my front paws on the edge of the mattress, I eased onto the floor and stretched. The hall light came on and two people stepped in front of the doorway. Lonnie and Ellen. Both wore black and gray fur. Lonnie held a long, thick piece of wood and a brown sack. They smelled awful. Especially Ellen. Like a rotten orange. I sat on my butt, never failing to appear prim and proper in front of the company, and pulled my ears back.
“There’s the mangy cat,” Lonnie said.
Mangy? Really? My fur was clean and dry and the vet said, despite my weight, that I was healthy. I was probably healthier than him and would live lo-.
Mangy cat.
Didn’t the black two-legged cat that killed Kerry call me mangy when he tripped over me on his way out? I sniffed the air and caught that onion scent from the night of the murder. Yes, it had to be Lonnie. He killed my Kerry. I was sure of it.
