The Writers' Circle

Mike didn't like people, in fact he despised almost everyone he came across.  This might have been more to do with his shortcomings in socialising than the inadequacies of others.  The only person Mike had much time for was local news presenter Jim Chapstick, who delivered everything with a sneer. 

Mike loved the news, not only was it his connection with the outside world, but he was glad to see the world around him falling apart.  Every week the news seemed to get more and more blasé about killings.  A year ago a killing would have been big news, now it has to be a young kid or a massacre to get any attention.  It had become like a ratings war between world events, if not enough people are killed then it will fall off the 10 o'clock news headlines and everyone forgets.  Sometimes it is better to beat previous records so that it gets valuable news time and therefore attention by politicians and aid agencies.  It had been known for people to exaggerate figures to break the 100 barrier, or even stop helping the injured to get a worthwhile total.

It was the local news he liked best; he could relate to the problems more, which made it feel real. The Middle East seemed a long way off, but an attack or a murder in his community was something he could connect with.  He could feel the pain of others around him and this kind of helped. It backed his belief that most people didn't deserve to live, those that killed, lied and cheated and those people stupid enough to get killed or cheated; they were both as bad as each other, the perpetrators and the victims. This fixation with the wrongs distorted his view of the world even more, as if encouraging the world to deteriorate enough so everyone was as miserable as him, society equal through the pain they had to endure. This was the quickest way to close the inequalities, attacking the privileged side rather than raising the standards of the poor.

When Mike was forced to leave the confines of his house, there was always an anxiety he had to try and overcome. Like a dog who's excitement explodes when a leash is placed round his neck, Mike's anxiety began when he put his coat on, with the gasping and shakes that resulted never growing any easier. On many an occasion he found himself hanging onto the door handle but unable to pull it open, his body disobeying his minds half hearted orders.  So many times it ended up him not going out, fully clothed for the venture out but just not able to let the natural light come streaming into the darkened hall way.  He blamed this on the people outside that made him feel like this, hopefully a few more would be wiped out today and a few more imprisoned. A few less people to bother him!

The main thing that lured Mike out of the house was his penchant for stealing the neighbourhood cats, he knew what attachment people had with their cats and their loss would cause great pain.  Mike liked this, but always felt a bit of sadness that his own eyes could never see the pain he caused as it all went on in the comfort of the person's house.  This always took a bit of the satisfaction away, he would never see them coming out of their kitchen and hopefully beckoning their cat, crying as there had been no sign for days.  There were the times when people would put out posters and call round, something tangible that would lift his spirits.  He would prolong these conversations to get maximum insight into their suffering when any other time they met Mike they would be lucky to get a grunt.

The death of a cat maybe a large ordeal for the owner but it does not warrant any police time, so Mike knew it was unlikely he would be tracked down as long as he was careful, but there was no need to worry too much about forensics.  The problem with stealing the cats was the effect it had on his routine, cats are more active at night so he was verging on becoming nocturnal.  This schedule compounded his hatred for people, as he was always tired and grumpy during the day. But he did find it easier to get out at night as he knew he was unlikely to meet anyone and if he did no one would be sparking up a conversation. 

Mike had a cat as a child, it was a beautiful fluffy cat that strode around as if Queen, but it never showed him any interest.  It always walked straight past him as he crawled towards it, smiling and making some indistinguishable baby noise, intrigued by the cat.  When Mike grew up and was able to walk he could chase the cat with more gusto, again it always got away.  This turned into a perpetual cycle of frustration.  The chase that began as a desire to bestow affection soon became a chase to punish the cat for forsaking him all those years.

Mike remembered catching the cat when he was older, and the cat was pushing on a bit, all those feelings from the years when all he wanted was to hug it had now been distorted and hatred ingrained.  He felt the cat deserved punishing for the years of neglecting his needs, so he took it and put it in the microwave, the cat just sat in there looking out the window at him.  He remembered setting the microwave to full power for 10 minutes, as you would do to defrost a 5lb chicken.  He turned on the microwave and pulling a chair close sat back to watch the show, would it last the full 10 minutes?

There was no doubt that this was the beginning of Mike's odd behaviour, getting the kick out of the death of a helpless creature. From this day on he no longer appreciated the sanctity of life. His mum felt it happened earlier than this though, when he was born the rest of the world was paying their respect to the war dead by observing a minutes silence. The first thing Mike done in this world was to scream at this silence and disrespect all the generations that came before him and laid down their life for his freedom. His path was set.

He lately had to go further afield for cats as suspicion was rife that there was a thief round his street.  Not only was his target areas becoming restricted but like his younger days Mike had to target the older fatter cats due to his fitness. Mike had been lining up the big fat tabby cat from down the road. The owner was a particular snooty lady who was always staring into his house and coming round asking too many questions, generally ones that ended up with her telling you about her latest expenditure. Are you going anywhere nice on holiday? No. Well I have just booked a cruise. Do you like sailing? No it makes me sick. Do you know what makes me sick, the state of the new family who have moved into number 5, those children look like they need a good wash.  She was obsessed about her stature within the community and other people bringing down the tone of the neighbourhood. It was the possible impact on house prices and her beloved equity that horrified her.

Tonight Mike was lining up to capture the cat and give the snooty cow her just deserts. He had been luring it close to his house with a range of treats. It took him a number of tries to find the right bait, eventually settling on cheesy bites.  The trust was there now and he was going to exploit it.