The Ill Fated Flight of Kitty Hawk
Max stares up taking her sunglasses off and shading her eyes with her left hand against the emblazoned sun. ”So…I take it that cats can’t fly?” “Well judging by the way it landed; I would say it possibly believed it could fly.” She looked down at the cat frozen in a background of seeping crimson; the final moments of a feline swan dive. She opens her mouth as if to speak and stares at her companion in confusion. ”How did it come to such? “ “Maybe, it was curious and became even more curiouser and curiouser.” “But that makes no sense! How is it possible that this specific cat reached such a level of curiosity, where it at once had a brilliant thought of committing the act of flight? “She takes her cigarette box out and using the infallible process of eeny-miney-moe chooses a cigarette and lights it. “Maybe the cat got the fear of God put in him by a roaming band of Jehovah’s Witnesses and felt ashamed and guilt ridden of its life of debauchery and gluttony and so by the process of elimination decided to end its life or… It wanted to one up the human race by re-enacting Kitty Hawk and becoming the first Hawk Cat. Or it was just curious” Seeing the conversation going nowhere “Whose cat do you suppose it was?” “Well, suppose that it was its own cat, a rebel and an anarchist protesting the status quo of Cat-Dom!” She lets out a deep sigh and takes a deep drag of her cigarette. “So a stray in other words?” “Possibly…” “Why possibly? You saying it could be a runaway?” “Well it could have been a murder” Max drops her cigarette and crushes it under her boot heel. “Murder” she tastes the word and tries to get a general feel of it. “But what about all that jazz about the discovery of flight and the way it was bound to the laws of gravity?” “Maybe it was meant to look like an experiment gone awry?” “So you are saying that the owner killed it?” “Not necessary, one of its own could have killed it.” Max sighs and looks back at the ridged body of the short existence of the gravity defying cat. “So, let me get this straight. We have a few theories relating to the cats death and with the more, SANE, sounding ones. It was either murdered by its owner or killed itself.” “Well, we can’t rule out the owner, killing out of frustration. We can’t be certain. It could have been killed because of its involvements with drug smuggling or a sex ring. Maybe an ex lover or a pissed partner killed out of whatever reason or a failed prison smuggling expedition. We will never know until we find out more about this individual.” Max bends down and studies the cat cadaver melting away in the sun: Well fed, hygienically clean, no signs of foul play or even past fighting. A perfect textbook example of your typical feline house guest. .”Wait there is an ID tag around its neck” Max lifts up a round metal disc from the matted and drying fur “Its name is Icarious.” “Well then, that’s it. It tried to defy gravity and learnt what an overruling bitch gravity can be” “Hey don’t say the B-word, otherwise I will tell mother and you haven’t been very helpful today. So let’s go back home then” Max grabs the teddy bear by the arm and drags it all the way home