Clearing the air

It's ten o'clock.

The Apprentice: Tents Edition has just finished. You remark on Donald Trump's ability to cut to the very core of a man and how you wish Ivanka worked in your office so she and you could have a cup of coffee. I chuckle politely and stretch out languidly, listening as only males can: absent-mindedly.

You slide off the bed to walk to the opposite side of the room to turn off the light. The quiet hum of the fan above us creates ambiance as you and I are getting snuggly on the sleigh bed with its crimson and gold, Wal-Mart quality comforter. I curl up ruggedly yet cutely next to you, almost like a furry spoon. You wrap your arm lovingly around me and gently stroke my healthy locks.

I purr steadily, content in the knowledge that you are my pet.

You close your eyes, knowing I will be there in the morning.

And then right as I close my eyes to join your in sleep, it happens.

The covers ripple as a low rumble emanates from within the mattress. The rumbling transforms into shattering vibrations which course across the plane of the fitted sheet, crumpling the comforter and shaking the very mattress I lay upon. My feline eyes become bulbous as I look hurriedly to and fro for any immediate sign of the tremendous and undeniable disaster coming my way. I sink my lithe claws into the fabric of the poor-man's comforter and prepare for the onslaught as my muscles become taunt and ready to spring.

You simply turn over onto your belly and let out a yawn.

Before I am able to discern what has occurred, a strange, venomous cloud slinks along the contours of the covers like an unwelcome guest. Quickly, I glance right and then left, hoping that there is some escape I can manage, yet captivated in horror, I find my legs unable to move. The cloud's sickening warmth surrounds my terrified body, and instinctively, I try to close my nostrils before its putriscence penetrates my senses.

It is too late.

Tears flow as the rotten egg smell burns into the delicate film of my eyes, and I find myself ready to gag as it seeps down into my throat, along the sandpaper edges of my tongue. Every hair bristles along my spine, and my tail stands straight out behind me, trembling at the onslaught. My will to live, though, is strong, and I attempt to use all of my feline prowess to overcome this powerful and vicious enemy.

As sudden as the attack had begun, the horrendous vapor disappears, and fresh air fills my lungs. My heart slows its pace as my fur settles against my soft body once more. I immediately stand to stretch after such an agonizing battle as I will not linger beside you for one second longer.

When will you learn not to fart in bed, my pet?

One more cat life lost.