And they say that humans are *far * smarter than cats. Hmph.

Shmogg has outsmarted me so many times I think I the MENSA junk mail should be addressed to *him*.

I'm going to boast and say that I got good marks at High School, got top of my class at the college I attended, got myself a science degree and I hold down a well paying job as a research scientist, but even with all these "smarts", the creature that didn't even make it as far as kindy and still licks his own butt manages to catch me out almost every time.

You'd think that, I, after about 8 years of falling for the same ol' dumb trick, I would have figured it by now.

Uh-Uh. Oh no.

Last night, I got belly-baited, tummy-trapped, and cute-with-claws-ed yet again.

Will I ever learn?

A sudden flop over in front of me, with all legs in the air, tummy fur waving softly in the breeze, that oh-so-cute look and the siren song of the begging "mrrp?" is not, I repeat, NOT an invitation to rub the belly, but rather an enticing flesh trap for the unwary.

Woe Betide the arm that extends itself, beware the unfurling hand! The cunning tummy trap has been set and is waiting to be sprung. The fingers approach the bait of soft belly fur, unaware of the 18 spikes of death that are on a hair trigger within the innocuously sweet surrounds. The hypnotically adorable look wipes the memory of all other traps from the human's mind, as the fingers loose themselves in the lush fabric that heaven itself is lined with.

The hapless human, with all the intelligence it possesses, is under the siren's song of the purr, and it has no sense of the imminent danger. The fingers move and sway, under the epicurean magic of the tummy. The trap, detecting that the human still has some few faculties remaining, stretches and flounces in luxurious delight, seemingly intoxicated with the pleasure of the lovingly given skritch, whilst underneath coldly calculating the most effective strike.

The purr reaches the crescendo as the trap exposes the full extent of tummy. The human, now completely sullied by the seemingly ecstatic poses and uttering of the trap, is completely enthralled. Engrossed by such enraptured behaviour, the doomed hand rubs and skritches to the beat of a haunted drum, and becomes unaware of all but the belly, the tummy, the fur, the softness, the delight, the unadulterated hedonism of the

Twang!

The trap springs. Four poles extend from around the belly, entrapping the limb. Barbs tipped with poison extend from the poles and enter the bewitched flesh, the back two logs leap and jerk to draw more blood. The happy face of a deeply contented puss disappears, and in its the hungry maw of an angry titan rears up, hungry for blood. Before the flesh recovers from its hypnotic state, the teeth of the monster sink into the flesh, eagerly supping upon the human's life force.

The human recovers its senses and cries out in both pain and confusion.

The monster, with its taste for blood satiated for a time, flips back over, and morphs back into its more familiar form. At the sound of purring, the post-hypnotic suggestion placed within the human whilst it was under the spell is activated, and the human once again believes that this creature is a cute and adorable kitty cat, worthy of love and attention, and forgets, for another time, about the tummy trap baited with belly fur.

Copyright © Vicky Chapman
February 13, 2000