Demon Cat

My landlady has a demon cat. When I got back from Paris, the little monster forced its way into my bedroom, climbed on top of me, and started meowing very aggressively. It followed me downstairs when I went to make dinner, and it kept jumping in front of me so I couldn't cut vegetables or slice bread or anything. There was a temporary respite when my landlady fed it, but then it got back into my room when I was Skyping my mom, and I had to pick it up and push it outside. This morning it woke me up. I felt it walking on me, which was not appreciated when I had only had five hours of sleep. I tried to pick it up and kick it out again, but the little beast yanked out its claws and had to be pried from my blanket. Generally I have nothing against cats (although usually if they're not declawed it makes me uncomfortable), but this cat is the spawn of Satan. Okay, that's a little strong. This cat makes me very, very grumpy and probably came from the pits of hell. Why can't Meagan's adorable cat Simba live here instead?

Sorry for the irritability; I have writer's block and I'm annoyed that my landlady's boyfriend is a smoker. If you want to poison your lungs, be my guest, but I don't recall giving you permission to poison mine. Argh.