Emergency

It is something no living eyes have ever seen. M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) is on a hunt.

He approaches quietly from downwind, keeping himself in the shadows, where his inky coat blends his form with the darkness. His gaze is locked, his muscles taut. In the blink of an eye, he pounces on his unsuspecting prey. The shock paralyzes the hunted, who by now can only manage feeble involuntary spasms. M holds steady. The label hangs limp as he quickly drains the life out of the woolly floormat and carries it in his fangs.

His eyes blaze with pride. The doormat is no more. Praise be to the liberator!!


Uh-oh.. here comes the stupid tall biped. damn! who starched his underwear? God save me from these ignorant ingrates!