Flat Kitty and Wobbly Dog – A Film Noir

August 29th, 2006

The streets were lined with smut and filth as far as the eye could see. Everywhere you looked was a junkie looking for a fix or stray girls of the night slinking into darkened cars. There’s no light here. No joy and no pain, only a desire to escape.

Two shadows cast along walls, darting between the streetlamps hoping to stay a secret. “How long have we been walking?” asked Kitty, her eyes awake to take in any hint of danger. Her companion, ears to the sky, murmurs a response, “it’s been a few hours, we have to keep going.” They exchange glances and then continue moving. Wobbly edges then continue moving. Wobbly edges around another corner and gestures to follow.

The streets in this part of town are practically deserted which unnerves both cat and dog. A thin stream of rain starts pattering on the secluded cars and sheltering under a bus stop both Kitty and Wobbly catch their breaths. “I wish we’d gotten the last bus now,” whispered Kitty, desperate not to make a sound. “No point in thinking about that now. We’ll get through this as long as we stick together.”

A pair of headlights appear at the end of the street. “Quick this way!” ushered Wobbly as they fled down a back alley. It feels smaller and smaller the further they venture into it. “Who would have thought eh…” said Kitty. Suddenly a figure emerged from underneath two dustbins, his arms held aloft. Wobbly darts forward but loses his balance and instead of pounding into his target his buckled legs send him careering into the tarmac. “Ow! Dammit!” he said standing up again and using a stray piece of wood to deck the stranger in the kneecaps. “Run Kitty, run!” he shouts but she isn’t quick enough to react. Frozen with fear she stares into the eyes of the madman. Red and fiery, barely human and pulsing like heated oranges. Wobbly ran grabbing her roughly between his teeth and away to the even darker recesses. They turn a corner and two more appear. Their numbers command authority and they don’t appear to respond to reason. “What is this, a tag team?” said Wobbly Dog, stealing a line from Die Hard II: Die Harder. His keen sense of smell was going mental. Seeing a gap the two heroes run between the monsters’ legs and back ont hte streets. How nameless and alone they feel. How piercing does the cold feel standing naked now amongst a whole army of freaks. “What is this, the freakin’ video for ‘Thriller’?” spat Kitty, clearly trying to sound urban but pulling it off with as much success as Oscar Wild in World’s Strongest Man. They cower in fear awaiting their fate like one a cardboard dog and a cat-shaped cushion can…

WHAT WILL HAPPEN? STAY TUNED…. I’ve written the other bit don’t worry, just my lunch break is ending now 😛

Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories,Ian

4 Comments

  • 1. Chris  |  August 29th, 2006 at 16:15

    I am in suspenders suspense!

  • 2. Ian Mac Mac Mac Mac McIver  |  August 29th, 2006 at 17:00

    Another disgusting image. Do you have an infinite amount of monkeys on an infinite amount of typewriters coming up with this shit or something? Can’t you do something useful like start a typewriting circus?

  • 3. Chris  |  August 30th, 2006 at 09:10

    My monkeys use cheap early 90s PCs running Word for Windows 3. When they tire of typing I let them play with Excel for a while where they try to write a formula for the meaning of life.

    Meanwhile I am using my wooden spoons in the usual way.

    This is what passes for my private life.

  • 4. Ian Mac Mac Mac McIver  |  August 30th, 2006 at 21:53

    The spoons, the SPOONS!


Something random

Archives

Categories