I’m all for integration, but really, this has gone too far. The zombies – sorry, life-challenged individuals – at number 12 ate Mrs McAllister’s cat last night.
Poor thing, we found his collar next to their back wall this morning, along with a small pile of teeth and a few bones that must have been too big for them to digest. I was relieved they hadn’t chucked his fur out as well; what with Mrs McAllister being so short-sighted she might have tried to pick that up for a cuddle. Then I saw one of their little ones wearing it as a sort of headdress while she ran around the back garden. We managed to keep poor Mrs McAllister indoors while Janet at number 9 went and had a word and retrieved what was left of Tinkles.
It really isn’t on.
The day they moved in some people said they’d eat us all before the week was out. Mrs Allan’s twins were most afraid, but as the life-challenged go for brains, I knew they’d be quite safe. As for me, I’ve never been one to judge before I’ve found out all the facts so I went over with a sponge cake. I don’t think they ate it, but I’m sure they appreciated a friendly face.
At first, they tried their best to join in with things. They came out for the summer barbecue, but, bless them, their table manners weren’t up to much and one of them dripped pus into Mr Johnson’s best sherry trifle. Things went downhill after that.
And this is the third pet-eating incident in as many weeks. We’ll vote on whether to move them on at the next neighbourhood meeting.
To be honest though, things could be worse. They’ve got vampires on Elderflower Crescent.
Published by Tiny Owl Workshop in October 2013 as part of the Napkin Project.