Hello, my dear readers! Today is Wednesday and it is time for some fiction. I do have another horror story for you, but this one has more jokes than the last one.

The last thing that I want to see is some guy that I don’t know sitting on my couch when I get home from work.

A heavy ball of nausea drops to the bottom of my stomach. I am trying to remember where I put my phone so I can call the police.

“Who are you and why are you in my house?” I say as I shove my hands into every single one of my pockets.

“What do you mean?” he says. “It’s, me, Freddie.” He jumps onto the floor and lays on his back. He arches his belly at me. He curls his hands over his chest with his fingers pointing down.

My pockets are empty. “Freddie who?” I say as I move on to my purse. It feels like someone is dribbling a basketball in my chest.

“Freddie Purrcury,” the man says sadly. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“Freddie Purrcury my cat?” My phone is not in my purse either.

“My bowl is empty,” he says. “I ate a marshmallow that I found under the couch and now I’m all weird-looking and smelly like you.”

“You think that I’m weird-looking and smelly?”

“But I still love you,” he says quickly.

“I just have to go get something I left in the car,” I tell him. I put my hand on the door handle. In an instant, he is off of the floor.

“No, don’t leave me!” he cries. He presses his back against the door and blocks my way.

My hands are shaking. I have to get out of the house.

“I’ll be right back though,” I say, trying to sound calm. “I just have to grab something from the car.”

“But my bowl is empty,” he whines. “And you’ve been gone all day.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you,” I say. “I just have to go to the bathroom first.”

Maybe I can climb out the bathroom window.

He tries to follow me into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Well, I want to come with you,” he says. He seems to be surprised by my question.

“You can’t come with me.”

“But I always come with you.”

“But why?”

“I like to lay on the floor to keep you company,” he says. “And I really enjoy the smells that you make when you’re sitting on the toilet.”

“I feel like I just need to be by myself for a few minutes,” I say. I slam the door in his face and lock the door. He immediately starts scratching it.

“Mom?” he says. “You forgot to let me come in with you. Mom? Mawwwwwwwmmmmm.”

I open the window and push the screen out. I try to climb out, but I cannot even squeeze my shoulders through the tiny opening.

“Mom! Mom!” the man says. He is attempting to shove his hands under the bathroom door.

The neighbour’s ten-year-old son is in their backyard using a stick to have a sword fight with an invisible opponent.

“Hey!” I whisper loudly. “Hey, neighbour kid!”

He stops playing and stares at me.

“Mom, mom, mom!” the man says. He is banging on the door.

“There’s a strange man in my house and I need help,” I explain to the kid. “Can you go inside and ask your mommy or daddy to call the police for me?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” the kid says.

“I’m not a stranger, I’m your neighbour!” I say. “I bought lemonade when you were selling it last year.”

“I didn’t have a lemonade stand last year,” he says. “I haven’t had a lemonade stand since I was five.” He goes into his house and closes the door.

My bathroom door clatters onto the floor. The man stands in the empty doorway.

“Whoa, did you see that?” he says. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that.”

“Why did you do that?” I ask. I feel like throwing up.

“My bowl’s empty,” he says. My brain feels like a hive of bees as I try to come up with a new plan. The only one that I can think of is to go along with the whole cat thing.

“Alright, I guess it’s that time,” I say. I step over the door and walk into the kitchen. I struggle to not shudder in revulsion when the man drops onto his hands and knees and rubs against my legs.

I take out a can of cat food. My hands are shaking so badly that I can barely open it. I put the food in a bowl and set it on the floor.

The man sticks his face in the bowl and starts eating. Disgusted, I soundlessly make my way to my bedroom. The door closes behind me with a soft click. I know that I can fit through the bedroom window.

The window is stuck.

The door opens.

“Hey, did you know that I can open doors now?” the man says. “I have hands!” He wiggles them happily in the air.

“Why are you doing this?” I say in frustration. My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. My throat is blocked.

“Were you going to bed without me?” he says. “I want to snuggle up with your feet like I always do.”

A scratching noise is coming from my closet. I hear a quiet and mournful meow. When I open the door, the real Freddie Purrcury comes out. He brushes his cheek against my shin gratefully.

“I knew it!” I tell the strange man. My tone is accusatory. “I knew that you’re not my Freddie.”

The man’s mouth stretches wide as he lets out a hollow and echoing scream. The entire length of his body is just his mouth. The real Freddie dashes back into the closet as the man bursts into a thousand cat-shaped shadows that scatter and disappear.