Tag: funny

Flash Fiction: Crime doesn’t pay

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Bud and Moe were the worst of thieves. Bud recently got word that a ‘friend’ was looking for computer equipment.

Later that day, Bud told Moe about the plan. Moe was to break into a local high school and steal several desktop computers and their accessories. That evening, Moe made a clean getaway and presented his loot to Bud.

“You bumbling idiot! You forgot the keyboards!” Bud yelled.

“No I didn’t, they are in the next room” said Moe, proudly.

Looking in the room, Bud’s response was to be expected.


This is my entry into this Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.


When I first got him, he was tiny enough to fit into the palm of my hand. He went by the name Midnight, but that name later changed to Killercat. Many people asked why this was.

Killercat was the cutest little thing. Cold black with eerie green eyes made this the perfect Halloween cat, and given the fact that he was born on October 31 only helped his extra spooky image.

Killercat was once a gentle cutie of a kitten, getting into trouble as most kittens do. He had a partner in crime, Rascal, who was like a brother to him, despite the fact that they came from different litters. I had originally intended on getting only one kitten, but Killercat cried out all night, in search of his mother, whom he was taken away from at too soon a time. In order to sleep, I decided to get another kitten. The two of them were so cute together, at night they would cuddle and Killer would ensure that Rascal was cleaned each day. Killer even took care to see that Rascal used the litter box properly.

As cute as Killercat was, he also had a dark side, and that is where the name Killercat originated. At night, while I slept, Killer would go into the kitchen, and if there were any steak knives laying around, he would carry them into my bed and lay them next to my neck. I know, you are thinking you seen this in some horror movie, but I assure you, I am not making this up. At Christmas time, he would remove glass Christmas ornaments from the tree and place them under my pillow. I think he was secretly trying to kill me.

I later renamed Midnight the name Killercat, and in fact, he responded much better to the new name.

A few years later, and Killercat would suffer a great loss. Rascal always had a difficult time with his water. He would often require medication to help him urinate, and eventually he would suffer from a cat disease linked to his kidneys. Two costly surgeries later and he still suffered, so I had to do the humane (and most difficult thing I ever had to do) and get the vet to put him to sleep. I know we men should be tough and not let things get to us, but I admit that I cried when I had to do this.

With that, Killer changed. No longer did I have the cute little black cat who only exhibited evil while I slept. Instead, I had an animal who suffered the loss of his best friend, and who took out frustrations on my home, the casings around the doors, my furniture, my bed, and of course, me; and anyone who crossed him.

The cat had his good points, as anytime I didn’t feel well, he was right there by my side, almost guarding me. He seemed to know whenever I wasn’t feeling well, and he would ensure that he was next to me, purring away loudly, trying to cheer me up. He also seen that no dogs invaded the household. When we brought a new puppy into the house, Killercat was not long teaching the puppy his house rules.

Killercat would continue this behavior until I brought another cat into the home. He never really accepted the new kitten, but he was less unpredictable. Eventually, he returned to his sometimes sweet self. If you ask anyone except my two sisters, Killercat was the sweetest cat ever, but for some reason, he totally disliked my sisters. On one occasion, while they were petting him, he locked his four paws around my sister’s arm, digging his claws deep into her flesh. I had to pry him from her arm.

Last summer, he began crying out at night, obviously in pain. I spent the night lying next to him in his little bed, petting him to help ease the pain. In the morning, it was a painful trip to the vet to discover the he too was beyond any help. Killercat was suffering from a liver disease, and I had to get him put to sleep.

I will always miss the ole guy, as he was eleven when he passed on. Nobody can say this cat was boring, as he kept me on my feet, except for the times in which he plotted to kill me.