Squatters

by JT Pearson

snow like a deep shadow. When Cameron opened the door to his home, the cat hissed at him and walked in, as if he were the owner and Cameron was trespassing. He gave the animal plenty of space, while he anticipated the reaction his roommates would have later upon encountering his bizarre acquisition. The hell beast dropped its battering ram of a head and plowed a chair over, before climbing on to the couch and making himself comfortable.

  For the next couple of days, everyone avoided the cat when it entered a room. They treated the animal more or less like one might treat a panther. If someone had food, the cat simply intimidated them until they gave it up, including Cameron. The squatters in Cameron's home asked him to get rid of the animal but Cameron told them that if they didn't like him they could just move out. The cat's urine was unlike anything any of them had ever smelled, and so strong that it permeated the entire house and all the way out to the street. It wasn't uncommon to see someone passing on the public walk suddenly cover their face. It wasn't long before everyone, including Cameron, felt like they were being lorded by their new houseguest.

  Cameron, now dressed in a tattered moth-eaten brown sweatshirt that he'd found discarded in the basement in order to stay warm, went back to the bridge and spoke to Winkydo.

  "What do you want now?" said the old bum.

  "I don't care to own that beast anymore. He's yours again. Give me back my money. You can even keep the jacket. Come and collect him immediately.'

  "You want your money back? Fine. Hold your hands out and cup them together while I stick my finger down my throat."

  "Point taken. Keep the money, but come take your cat back."

  "Not that easy. Once Satan decides a place belongs to him he don't give it up so easily."

  "I thought you said his name was Midnight."

  "Midnight, Satan - sure."

  "Well, how are we going to get him out of there?"

  "I'll come and stay with you for a few days and when he's ready to leave I'll bring him on home."

  "Out of the question."

  "Then, you're stuck with Satan."

  "I could just get a gun and shoot him."

  "That's a hell of a way to treat your pet. I think the humane society might have something to say about that."

  Cameron reluctantly agreed and Winkydo followed him home and moved in, leaving his cardboard home behind. Days passed and Cameron could see that Winkydo had no intention of leaving. The young people in the house took an immediate liking to Winkydo, his folksy ways, his outlandish stories.

  The next day Cameron sat out on the porch pondering how to get rid of his newest roommate and his mutant. He looked up and saw the kid that had first told him of Satan, standing in his walk.

  "Go away. You're breathing up all of the air."

  "I'm only breathing a little."

  "Well. It's entirely too much. Don't you realize that we have a population problem on this planet and its kids like you that are squeezing out the rest of us?"

  The kid walked to the street and took a deep breath before returning.

  "What are you doing now?"

  He shook his head, holding his breath.

  "You can't talk because you're breathing the air from the street instead of from my yard?" The kid nodded. "Fine. You can have some of my air."

  The kid, looking like a balloon on the verge of bursting, finally exhaled, coughing and choking.

  "You sold me on a bad idea. I got that cat and put him in my house and he hasn't scared anybody away. He just makes the place even more miserable."

  "You put Satan in your house?" the kid asked in near disbelief.

  "Can't get him out now, and it's your fault. Not only that, it came with a winkydo."

  "Sorry."

  "Your sorrow doesn't help me."

  "I got an idea."

  "Haven't we suffered enough from your ideas already? Oh, that's right. You're the true Prince of Darkness. There's never enough suffering in the world for you."

  The kid stood silently, just blinking.

  "Okay, kid, what's your fabulous new idea?"

  "My Uncle Lester has a dog that just might be as tough as Satan. He ain't nice to anybody. Not even Uncle Lester. He's gigantic. He's called a massive."

  "Mastiff? Your uncle has a mastiff?"

  "It's super big."

  "And where does your uncle live?"

  An hour later Cameron held the monstrous dog's leash as it dragged his old bones through the slush, never quite guiding the dog's direction, but eventually arriving at their destination through a series of compromises. The dog's name was Duke, and it had a continual stream of something syrupy that hung and dropped in globs from his jowls. He smelled even worse than the cat. Cameron's dress shoes acted like skis as he slid along behind the dog up the walk. He could tell that the dog already smelled Satan inside the house. Once he reached the door, Cameron opened it and released Duke who bounded recklessly into the front hall, smashing something as he rounded the corner. Cameron retreated to the porch stairs and sat down, enjoying the chaos, the shrieks and cuss words, even a scream. It didn't last long and Cameron suddenly found himself wondering whether the enormous animal had possibly eaten the other inhabitants of the house. Even though the thought didn't completely repulse him, there would be the police to deal with again. Finally, he had to know, so he cautiously ventured inside.

  When Cameron entered the living room his heart sank. Satan sat upon Duke's back like a trick rider on a show pony. The freakish cat had somehow bewitched Duke. The girls that stayed at the house had their legs withdrawn and tucked beneath them, cowering on the couch as the cat riding the dog paraded past them.

  The two animals, from their first meeting, were inseparable, and from that time forward seemed to be plotting together using their own strange inter-animal whisper language to conspire against all others in the house.

  Later that night as Amy passed Cameron's room she stopped and held up her jacket that had a huge bite taken out of the back of it. "Your shitty dog." She walked off.

  "You own a jacket when you don't even seem to own a pair of pants?" Cameron called after her, with a smirk on his face. He thought it was really funny until the next morning when he put on his own pants and noticed a section of the left thigh missing, and then he was unable to locate one of his shoes. During his search he came across an enormous bowel movement, at least the length of a toddler's leg, comprised of many things that had been missing from the house, including a hairbrush, an unopened package of Band Aids, and pieces of Italian leather and shoelace. He screamed at the top of his lungs. Later, after he calmed down, he found himself a pair of old work boots in the basement and put them on. He went to see Lester about taking Duke back again.

  "So my boy Duke didn't get those people out of the house for you either, huh?"

  "No. The squatters are more determined than I anticipated. I believe they're winning this battle."

  "I can help you. Before I sold insurance I used to vacate stubborn tenants from rental properties where the folks had stopped paying. Sometimes it takes a little finesse to stay within the law and still get results but I can always get people to leave. I just need to move in there with you for a while and I'll work them out of there just like a hunter smoking a fox out of his den."

  "What about your house?"

  "This isn't actually my house. I'm just staying with friends for a bit while I?restructure a few things in my life."

  "Fine. Let's do it."

  The next day Lester moved in, bringing a small suitcase filled with spare clothes and toiletries, but it was if they'd never even had the conversation about the unwanted occupants. He, like Duke, like Winkydo, like Satan, just made himself comfortable and joined the natives.

  Time passed and the odd inhabitants of the house got comfortable with each other, all but Cameron. Amy and China took to the unusual animals, fussing over them, bathing them, tying ribbons in their hair, pampering them, loving them. It did little to help with the animals' naturally hideous appearance but it
bonded the women with them. And it seemed to Cameron that the three men of the household were getting along like they'd been born brothers that had been separated and now rejoined, a warm connection that he had never known with his own true brother, and he was filled with a sense of envy. Even the little boy that had the continual train of snot that hung from his lip now spent his time among the squatters, his nose finally clean, the young girls playing mother.

  One day as Cameron stood in the doorway undetected, looking into the large living room, he watched Winkydo helping Amy design a tattoo for her ankle, Neil explaining his songwriting process to Lester, Satan passing through the living room on Duke's back while the clean lipped boy followed behind, China smiling with her eyes shut - wearing headphones and dancing by herself in the corner to an old Velvet Underground album that Cameron had owned and loved at one time, and as he looked up and caught his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, he heard his wife's final words to him echoing in his mind. "You only care about yourself, Cameron." He was completely alone even though he stood no more than a dozen feet from these people. Reality crept in like moonlight that suddenly trickles through an evening window and at that moment Cameron realized that there was only one trespasser in his mother's home.

  He stepped outside and sat on the porch in his torn pants, beat-up work boots, and worn out sweatshirt, and as a man passed by on the sidewalk, smoking, Cameron, his urge to smoke again now stronger than ever, called out to the man, asking him if he had a spare