by Raven, C L
I smiled. "Fairytales are twisted."
Master of Puppets
The blood red rose struck the coffin. Rain drummed on it, as though feeble knocking echoed from inside. I hoped he was still alive, listening to the dull thuds of the earth hitting the lid as he desperately scratched the polished wood, realising the Reaper had come for him and would make him suffer every second of his terrifying death.
I hoped he died screaming.
I couldn't stand to be around the mourners, watching them cry for a man they never really knew. At least, they cried for the side of him they knew. That side was just a glossy political poster advertising something that didn't exist.
I joined my brothers by the hearse. Rob was twenty five and our father's favourite. He was the handsome rugby player. The sun didn't just shine out his arse, but out of every orifice, like a halo trapped in a cheese grater. It wasn't his fault he couldn't stay faithful when so many girls threw themselves at him. It wasn't his fault he'd get drunk every Saturday night and end up in A and E or the cells - he trained hard, he deserved some fun. It wasn't his fault he constantly borrowed money off our father and never paid it back – celebrities had a lifestyle to maintain.
That's why our father left him the house.
Pierre was twenty three and ridiculously intelligent. He had three degrees, all in stuff that fried my brain. It didn't matter he was a prick. Our father said intelligent people often had social problems and I didn't know what a burden it was being that brilliant. It didn't matter he never visited or phoned after he'd left. He had an important job, he couldn't help being too busy to care about the ones he left behind.
He got the sports car.
At nineteen, I was the youngest. The disappointment. Our father said there was absolutely no excuse for my faults. I got nothing. Except broken bones and mental scars to remember him by. And the metal plate in my head that made airport trips embarrassing.
"I'm selling the house," Rob told me. "I don't need it. Can you move out in the next few weeks?"
"And go where? They don't sell flats in Lidl's."
"I'll sell it quicker if it's empty. Go stay with a friend."
"I don't have friends."
"Dad was right. You are a loser."
I kicked him in the shin and returned to the grave. I put my MP3 Player earphones in and blasted Green Day's 'Ha Ha You're Dead'. I dangled one earphone into Dad's grave. It was a fitting tribute.
"Psst!"
I looked around. Forsaken graves stared back. Wilting or dead flowers lay scattered over the sunken grass, some still in their supermarket shrouds.
"Psst! Aidan!"
I rose and peered around a headstone. A tortoiseshell cat glared at me.
"Hey Puss." I tickled his head.
"Don't be so condescending." He slapped my hand away.
"I think I drank too much at the wake." I examined the claw holes on my hand.
"The wake comes after the funeral, dumbass. Frankly it's the only reason people bother showing up to these things. They're so depressing."
"Wonderful. Nineteen years of living with an abusive narcissist and when he's finally rotting in the ground, now I get to escape into a fantasy world? Maybe my metal plate has caused a malfunction."
"Dude, I'm a cat. They don't let cats take psychology degrees, so don't start telling me your life's problems. I'm not running a suicide helpline. Wait, I'm getting something." He waved one paw, like he was batting moths. "My superior senses tell me...you're a jerk." He poked his tongue out.
"I'm finally rid of that child beating monster, my brother's just screwed me over and now a cat's talking to me."
"I'd say this is the best thing that's ever happened to you, given those examples." I looked at him. He stared straight back, looking bored. "I can make you rich."
"Cats are running pyramid schemes now? Why am I not surprised? You are the psychopaths of the animal kingdom."
"If cats are psychopaths, dogs are sociopaths. You humans really think they like you with their tail wagging and smiles? They think you're idiots. Now. How about letting me help you?"
"Fine, come with me. But I'm giving you a name. How 'bout Patches?"
He glared. "How about I call you Fat Arse?"
"What the fuck?"
"Oh I'm sorry, I assumed because you named me by my most obvious feature, I would be allowed to return the compliment."
I rubbed my forehead. I was definitely losing it. "I don't have a fat arse."
"Dude, you're so skinny, if you walked across a cattle grid, you'd fall down it. Your arse is the only thing that stops you looking like a pencil."
"Choose your own damn name then."
"Mephistopheles."
I walked on. "C'mon on Meph." I whistled.
"Don't call me that, it makes me sound like a programme for smackheads."
He trotted ahead of me, his tail waving like a flag of victory. The rain made the graveyard bleak and depressing. Raindrops splashed the headstones like a million tears from sky-bound spirits.
"Aidan! You coming?" Rob gestured to the funeral limo.
I flipped him off. "There's your RSVP."
Mephistopheles turned around impatiently.
I followed him out of the cemetery and along the pavement. If I caught up, he'd walk away, pretending he wasn't with me. Rain snaked down my back. I shivered and hitched my jeans up. The cuffs were wet.
"I'm going to teach you how to survive on the streets," Mephistopheles said.
"I have a home."
"Not for much longer. See that businessman?" He tilted his head in a portly man's direction. He was sitting outside a café. "Take his wallet."
"No!"
"Dude, you can't afford morals. Hell you can't even afford a pack of Jelly Babies. Go and steal his wallet. It's right by his side."
"What if I'm caught?"
"You'll have a bed, a roof and food provided by Her Majesty's Pleasure. Win-win."
He trotted over to the café. I looked around then followed, sweat prickling my underarms. Mephistopheles rubbed his face against the man's leg then stood up and put his paws on the chair, purring. The man ignored him.
"Dude, now!"
I grabbed the wallet as I passed. Mephistopheles purred louder, then bit the man's wrist and fled. My heart pounded as I rounded the corner. Mephistopheles joined me from the other direction.
"Good work grasshopper. Now give it back."
"You just made me steal it!"
"Nobody put a gun to your head. How the hell do humans live so long? You're rejects. Nature clearly evolved you for a joke. Give the fat man his wallet, tell him you saw someone steal it and you retrieved it."
I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. Mephistopheles used my leg as a scratching post until I surrendered and walked back to the café, certain everyone was staring and knew my guilty secret. I tried swallowing but my mouth was dry. I'd never spent time in a police cell and I was proud of that. I stopped by the table and glanced back. Mephistopheles rubbed his chin against the corner of the wall and flicked his tail.
"Um." I might as well write 'GUILTY' all over my naked body and dance through the streets shaking maracas. "I uh saw a guy take your wallet." I dropped it on the table. "I got it back for you."
I swore my heart stopped. I jammed my trembling hands in my pockets, feeling sick. Mephistopheles sat neatly on the pavement, looking unimpressed.
"Thank you! I didn't even notice! Here, let me give you something."
"No, it's fine."
"I insist. It's rare to find someone so honest."
I bit my lip, my stomach clenching. He opened his wallet and gave me twenty pounds.
"No, really, I don't need it."
"Please take it. The wallet was a gift from my father. I would've been devastated if I'd lost it."
I thanked him and scuttled off, guilt burning a hole in my guts. Mephistopheles chased me.
"Wow you're not so dumb after all. There was me thinking brains in humans were a
n optional extra."
"Why did you make me do that? I can't take his money. I'm giving it back."
Mephistopheles jumped onto a nearby wall and slapped me across the face. Claws extended. "Listen punk. I've adopted you as my...how can I put this? 'Dogsbody' sounds so demeaning. Carer. I expect you to provide me with a home, food and a warm bed. Everything you're about to lose. So unless you want to spend the rest of your life sleeping in a cardboard box and giving sexual favours to ugly, pathetic men in exchange for whatever toxin you'll get addicted to, to help you escape your shitty life, you'll do as I say."
"What am I supposed to tell the judge when I'm hauled into the courts? 'A cat told me to do it'?"
He put his paws on my shoulders and butted his head against my forehead. His tail coiled around my throat. "Drop me in it and prison will be the least of your problems. I can behead mice with one bite. I wouldn't be that kind to you. And when you finally die, I'll eat your corpse. I'll have such a delectable feast there'll be nothing worth burying."
Marvellous. Not only was I talking to a cat, I was talking to a psychologically unstable criminal mastermind. Why couldn't he have been a dog?
He sat on the wall. "There's a pet shop over the road. Swipe a pirate hat and boots for me."
"Are you going to make me steal you a galleon as well? Can't I pay with my ill-gotten gains?"
He stared hard at me until I surrendered. He followed me into the pet shop and jumped onto the counter, parading back and forth. While the cashier was distracted, I stole a hat and two pairs of boots from the boutique section. As I was leaving, Mephistopheles snatched a collar from the counter and ran through the doors, setting off the alarm. I hurried out then he returned the collar.
"You don't want that?" I asked.
"It's not in your size." He marched off.
We went around the corner then I showed him the stolen items. He stepped into the boots and made me put the hat on his head. He approached a shop window and walked up and down, admiring his reflection.
"I look the business! I don't suppose they had a sword?"
"Why would a pet shop have a sword?"
"I'd look so badass with a sword."
He moaned on and on about the damn sword until I went into a home shop and stole a dagger shaped letter opener. He gripped it in his tail and strutted proudly, occasionally threatening toddlers in buggies with it.
I spent the rest of the day stealing people's wallets, iPhones and even a laptop before handing them back for a reward. By the time I returned home the next morning, I was exhausted, guilt-ridden and richer than I was yesterday. Rob didn't acknowledge Mephistopheles when we entered.
"What are you doing with that stuff?" He indicated to the bowl, bed and box of cat food in my arms.
"It's for my cat, Mephistopheles."
"Aren't you too old for an imaginary pet?"
"I found him."
"I'm not having a cat covering the place in fur and fleas when I'm trying to sell it."
"You're a real Prince Charming, aren't you?" Mephistopheles hissed. "You cabbage patch troll."
I inwardly cringed.
"What did you call me?" He lifted me by my collar and slammed me into the wall.
"It wasn't me! It was-" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mephistopheles sharpening his claws with the letter opener. I sighed and did the only thing I could think of - I head butted Rob.
He stumbled backwards, dropping me. I hit the floor then he kicked me in the ribs.
"Dad was right. You're a useless waste of a life. You're not spending another minute here. I've put up with your idiocy for long enough. Hell, I've even covered for you."
"When the fuck did you ever cover for me?" I leapt up. "You stood there and watched while he kicked the shit out of me!"
"Look how he got rewarded for it," Mephistopheles said. "What've you got for all the years you were abused, demeaned, spat on? Nothing. He doesn't deserve the house. D'you think he'll give you any money from the sale? No, he'll spend it on whores and booze." He held out the letter opener. "Teach him a lesson."
"You know what?" Rob snarled. "You deserved it!"
I grabbed the letter opener and stabbed it into Rob's neck. He fell to the floor, gurgling. Shock immobilised me. The only other person I'd seen die was our father. Rob pulled the dagger out. It slipped from his crimson grasp, his blood seeping across the floor. He weakly grabbed my leg, his lifeless eyes staring into mine. Mephistopheles leapt onto the windowsill and checked his boots for blood.
"You have to get rid of the body. Get shot of the carpet too. He's ruined it by bleeding all over it. It's disgusting anyway. Buy a time machine and send it back to the seventies."
"What have I done?" I ran my shaking hand over my head.
"Do I need to recap it with witty commentary and slow action replay?" He headed upstairs. "Which room's mine?"
"What about the bed I stole for you?"
"Why would I sleep in a wigwam when I can have your bed?"
"You pestered me for that bloody wigwam!"
"Dude, the Egyptians worshipped cats as gods. I want you to remember that."
"They also pulled people's brains out through their noses."
He disappeared with a flick of his tail that looked suspiciously like he was flipping me off. I stared at Rob's blood streaked body. I cleared the hall then pulled up the carpet and wrapped Rob in it. I shouted for Mephistopheles. He hurried down the stairs.
"This had better be important. I need sixteen hours of sleep a day."
"It's done."
"What d'you want? A round of applause?"
"What do I do now?"
"Leave him out for the council to collect."
"What?"
"Did someone pull your brains out through your nose? Get rid of him before he stinks the place out. My olfactory senses are very delicate."
"I don't have a car."
"Your brother does."
I rang Pierre. After I'd talked to him for five minutes, Mephistopheles made a rolling motion with his front leg.
"Hurry up, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. Can you hear that? That's the sound of hungerbugs marching through my stomach."
"They sound like purrs." I hung up.
"I didn't realise you were fluent in Feline. You can barely speak English." He trotted into the kitchen and sat at the table. "Do I have to open the damn pouch myself?"
I sighed and fetched his bowl and a pouch of food. I squeezed half into his bowl.
"I didn't order that."
"You haven't even tried it."
"I don't want it."
I chose another flavour and squeezed half in.
"I'm not eating that. It smells like worms."
"You haven't even looked at it!"
"I swear you want me to starve."
After another three flavours, he ate his biscuits, glaring at me over his bowl and muttering about the shoddy service. I sighed and went into the hall, stopping when I saw Rob's feet sticking out of the rolled up carpet. I stepped over him and sat on the stairs with my head in my hands. Mephistopheles purred and nudged my arm.
"I buried my father, got evicted from my home, pickpocketed strangers and now I've killed my brother."
"Your personal development has been rapid." Mephistopheles massaged me with his front feet. "When you get Pierre's car, you'll be set."
"I'm a murderer."
"Plenty of people have killed their relatives, for pettier reasons."
"I killed my brother."
"I can magic him back to life if you'd prefer, so he can make you homeless."
"Can you do that?"
He sat down, his eyes narrowing. "I'm a cat, not a friggin' magician. I don't have creepy magic powers."
"You can talk."
"So can you. No-one's ringing Britain's Got Talent voting you in."
Fifteen minutes later, the door knocked. Mephistopheles' tail smacked me across the face as he fled upstairs. I blocked the door so Rob couldn't be s
een. Pierre had his phone clamped to his ear. He spoke about numbers and jargon then hung up.
"This had better be important, Aidan."
"I'm sure the stock market won't crash in your absence."
"I've got half an hour for lunch. What do you want?"
"I need to borrow your car, to take a carpet to the dump."
"It's a sports car, not a pick-up truck."
Mephistopheles crept down the stairs. "Oh yet another brother who refuses to help in your hour of need. Yet you sacrifice whatever you're doing to help him whenever he clicks his fingers. I bet if you were on fire and he was sitting beside a fire extinguisher, he'd ignore your shrieks to chase the next rising stocks. Where was he when your father fractured your skull? Oh yeah. Studying for his exams and turning his music up to drown out your screams." How did he know? I must've told him, though I don't remember.
"You could've told me this on the phone. Saved me wasting fifteen minutes." Pierre pulled out his phone and turned away.
"You'd get the same sentence for two murders," Mephistopheles told me. "Let's face it, no-one will miss them."
"I won't be long," I called to Pierre.
"Buy your own bloody car. I'm not having scuff marks on the interior. You haven't even bothered changing out of your funeral clothes. You need a shave too. Just because you are a failure, doesn't mean you have to look like one."
I snatched up the letter opener and rammed it into his neck. He choked as he stumbled forwards then dropped to his knees. He frantically tried pulling it out, his hands slick with his own blood. His face whitened, shock widening his eyes.
"You-" he rasped before falling forwards, his blood stained hands smearing his white shirt.
"Dude, get him inside before the neighbours see," Mephistopheles rubbed his chin against the doorframe. "This looks like a Neighbourhood Watch area."
"I can't believe I just did that again."
"I can't believe you didn't do it sooner."
I dragged Pierre inside and spent twenty minutes pulling the damn stairs carpet up. Mephistopheles kept sitting on the bit I wanted and refusing to move. I'd go to another corner and he'd sit on that one and start washing.
"If you're not going to help, sit somewhere else."
"I'm supervising."
