If it ever happens, calmly but firmly tell her that you’re entirely alone in the world. That your cat’s imminent mummification upon your demise haunts you some nights and warms your heart on others. Your central place in Cumsock’s grand astrology is all that keeps you grounded. You are Cumsock’s sun. His order. His god. If you desired to, you could hold Cumsock’s thrashing body under water until he becomes limp meat. But you wouldn’t do that. Not to Cumsock. Then walk out with your left handed scissors and tictacs