So. First Blog post. No pressure. I can do this. So what if I’ve tried blogging before? So what if the only reason I’m doing this now is because I’m too tired for the game design I’m working on to make sense any more? So what if I can’t think of anything relevant to say about anything?
Everyone says it’s boring for writers to talk about their writing, so that’s out. I’m worn out thinking about games, so I’ll avoid that today. Facebook and Twitter have nothing interesting for me to rip off… No subject matter? Who cares! That’s never stopped bloggers before. So here I go. Right. Now.
Ok, I got nothing. Think, think! What can I talk about that the internet craves like a WoW addict craves sweet loot? *Ding!* Got it!
Let me tell you about one of my cats. His name is Conner and he’s a giant wuss. Seriously, of my four cats (yes, bad planned parenting on our parts) he’s by far the largest, the most muscled, with claws so sharp and avian I’ve seen passing falcons look on in envy as he casually shreds the carpet. He’s a transforming Ninja, silent as he walks, black when he’s dry and white when he’s wet. Did I also mention he only has half a colon and only one eye? But he’s the biggest scaredy-cat in the world.
We have another cat, Mia. The lone female, a pretty tiny specimen of a feline. But she hunts him day and night. She is like the hunter from that story, the Most Dangerous Game and he’s like… well, the hunted guy from that story. (Minus the one-line twist ending. So far.) She waits for where he knows he’s going to walk and attacks. Hisses when he comes within a four foot radius of her. In one apartment we had where all the doors happened to lead through one single junction point, she would sit at that point and dare him to try to move from Room A to Room B. Just try it, sucker.
Maybe Conner is a pacifist, but he always runs away and hides under the bed. He’s so bad about that, the time we drove cross-country from L.A. to Boston for my new job, we thought we had lost him at a hotel in Oklahoma City. We had security looking through the calls, scrubbing through security video from our hall… it turns out he had just burrowed his way into one of the beds’ box springs and hid there. We did not get our security deposit back.
But maybe not. Maybe he’s just waiting for his time to strike. To finally take his revenge. Here’s to you, secret ninja cat. Here’s hoping you grow a(nother) pair.