It was raining outside. Drizzling, actually, just a steady, soft
pattering of raindrops as they fell. Margaret sighed happily. No school and a
library book all about cats. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
Margaret fixed herself a sandwich then draped herself sideways
across the big blue armchair. She leaned back to set her lunch on the end table
and then reached up to flick on the reading light.
Then, settling herself comfortably, she began to read.
As she turned the pages, Margaret slowly became aware of the
purring of her own cat, Ozmo. She couldn't see him right away, but he was obviously
somewhere in the room.
"Ah, there you are!" Margaret smiled at Ozmo.
The rain beat gently against the window. A very soothing sound.
And there was something... something about that soft purr... the bright eyes...
that gently flicking tail...
"You know," she said to herself, (YAWN...
excuse me)" ...sometimes... cats seem... to have... an almost... hypnotic....
quality about them, don't th.......z...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
Margaret awoke a short time later with Ozmo curled comfortably on her tummy. She yawned and stretched. "Up you go, Ozmo," she said, "I'm hungry. I'm going to eat my sandwich now."
Just like magic, Ozmo disappeared.
Margaret sat up and reached for her sandwich.
It was gone.
There was nothing left of her lunch but a couple of crumbs and a tiny little cat footprint.
OZMO!!!
You felonious little furball!
"Where's my LUNCH!?"
But Ozmo was nowhere to be found.
Margaret looked under couches.
She looked under chairs.
She looked in the closets.
She looked under the stairs.
No Ozmo.
But Margaret had the funniest feeling that Ozmo was right there.
Laughing.
"Hmmmph!" thought Margaret. Ozmo is so good at this disappearing stuff, he ought to have his own magic act. That way he could amaze people on stage.
People would come to the show to watch him disappear, just like the Cheshire cat in "Alice in Wonderland."
"Poof! there's nothing left but the grin."
Margaret snorted. "I know why cats grin," she thought. "They're grinning because they think it's funny watching people trying to find them."
Margeret looked behind the draperies.
No Ozmo.
"You know, that magic act is not a bad idea," she thought to herself, as she got down on her knees to peer under the couch. "I can see it now..."
So much for daydreams.
Still no Ozmo.
Margaret stood up and looked about the room. Putting her hands on her hips she shouted really loudly.
"OZMO!!
Where ARE you?
You better have a
REALLY
GOOD
EXPLANATION
for what happened to my
LUNCH!"
There was total silence.
There was only one place left to look.
One last closet.
As she got closer to the door, Margaret could swear she heard little cat giggling sounds.
HAPPENED
TO
MY
LUNCH?"
Could he escape?
THE DOG DID IT.
REALLY!
TRUST ME!
"OZMO!" said Margaret, suddenly starting to laugh.
We don't HAVE a dog!
About the Illustrator
Margaret Krakowiak, a resident of New Mexico, cheerfully introduced herself to Bedtime-Story as the "talented female illustrator with the warped sense of humor." Indeed, her work is clever as well as witty. She's also a sculptress whose works you may have seen displayed in a number of galleries, including the National Museum for Women in the Arts, in Washington DC. Expect to see more examples of her animation both at Bedtime-Story and, we would certainly think...as innovative ads for corporate sponsors. Contact Margaret Krakowiak
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