About fifteen minutes after saying goodnight to my boyfriend, who was on call last night, i realized it was Friday the 13th. Yeah, whatever, if you grew up on enough horror films, you’d be waiting for something to happen, too. To counteract my sudden alarm, I put on “27 Dresses” because nothing bad can happen to you when Katherine Heigl and James Marsden are “acting”, and any movie with Judy Greer playing a snarky friend is bound to ward off evil.
As Heigl flitted about, trying on dress, after dress, after dress, after dress, a horrific catfight began in the courtyard under my window. I had a moment of delay in which I tried to reconcile the sound with the images I was seeing, then concluded that a cat was being murdered by another cat (yet another instance of the despicable gang behaviour we so often see among these Montmartre Alley Cats who slink about in the shadows, fed during the day by the neighborhood Cat People Mafia, cutting each other up with broken bottles by night, when the citizens of the Butte are too fearful to intervene).
Ha! I thought. Catfight on Friday the 13th. Funny, really. I’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow. When the movie was over, I turned off the lights and curled up in bed. Just as I was dozing off, I heard the sound of something sliding. There is no other way to describe it. Sure that it was coming from outside, I allowed myself to sit up and look around. The sound continued and as my senses came back to me, I realized it was most certainly coming from inside the bedroom. About 30 seconds of Sliding Sound later, my backpack dislodged itself from its place behind the armoire and fell to the floor with a thud.
I was scared The end.