Josh the fence-fixing man has been to fix our fence (obviously, since he’s a fence-fixing man), after it blew over in high winds.
As he walked through our kitchen towards the patio doors, Josh commented on our ouija chopping board (a gift from one of Louis Catorze’s chat-sitteurs). Cat Daddy told him that we were into all manner of spooky stuff although, worryingly, he didn’t mention that it was a chopping board and just let Josh think it was an actual ouija board.
Naturellement, talk of spooky stuff comes hand in hand with talk of Catorze, so Cat Daddy mentioned that we had a black cat. Josh replied that he had a phobia of black cats, with a particular incident triggering this: a black cat once ran across the road when he was turning at a roundabout. Days later, at the same roundabout, the same thing happened again, only this time Josh crashed his car, resulting in severe, long-lasting and still-visible injuries.
OH. MON. DIEU.
It was then a race against time to find Catorze and shove him into a lead-lined underground vault, before he could enter stage left and make Josh either have a heart attack or do himself further physical damage whilst trying to run away. But the little sod was nowhere to be found.
I looked in every room, even under the beds, and I couldn’t find him. It’s a bit difficult to contain a potential threat when you don’t know where it is.
At a loss for what else to do, I went to the supermarket and left Cat Daddy to hold the Château. When I returned, expecting to see either the place in burning ruins or an ambulance parked outside for stricken Josh, the fence work had been completed, with no Catorzian interference whatsoever. In fact, nobody even knew where he was.
I bet THAT’S a plot twist that none of you were expecting. Be honest: you thought it would be all Armageddon and ambulances too, right?
Eventually I found Catorze under the guest room bed, in a cardboard box of Cat Daddy’s cycling clothes.
What happened? Could it be that Catorze picked up on the difference between annoying the merde out of someone who found him a bit creepy, as opposed to traumatising a genuinely scared, injured man, and was charitable enough to give Josh a break? Or is it more likely that his nocturnal gallivanting had gone on until late the previous night, causing him to sleep through the whole morning?
I’ll leave you to think about that one.
louiscatorze.com 
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