Chapter Text
The couch, a sacred artifact bought by Jon Arbuckle the Weak for only 299.99 USD, was tarnished.
A massive butt print squashed the front cushion, making it limp like a deflated balloon. It also smelled like rot, that Dorito stench attracting bugs and disease. But what tainted it the most was the mark of the beast, several brutal claw marks tearing it wide, leaving springs like fractured bones sticking through skin fabric and white intestines all over the floor.
This desolation was not the first nor was it going to be the last, for the cycle of impunity, of the beast being exempted again and again, has led the royal treasure to be disgraced for a millennium.
So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Jon Arbuckle the Weak that it was destroyed.
It shouldn’t have made his eyes bulge.
But it did.
And dropping his bowl of popcorn on the floor, a scream of pure anger escaped his lips :
“GARFIELD!”
The weak cried, shaking dust off the ceiling.
The sound itself was a ritual, a ritual formed by decades of experience, one that formed sound waves of such precision that one can measure its amplitude perfectly. Only such ritual can call the beast from its slumber, call it from the void between the second and third dimension!
But it could be for vain as the slumbering beast was hard of hearing and liked its beauty nap. Jon Arbuckle the Weak, sweat dripping down his balding head, could only hope that his summon was correct. Could only hope his annoyance (and perhaps fear) didn’t get to him.
Alas, there was nothing at first.
Nothing except the sounds of Jon coughing and hacking up at the wave of dust and the smell of Doritos.
Staying like that.
Until the signs of a shift.
The earth began to tremble, began to warp, at the sounds of something… else. Something bigger, something large.
Can you feel the presence of the beast warping reality itself? Can you feel the world warping again and again, the clock was ticking backwards, time folding upon itself?
Alas Jon could hear the waves and the waves coming back at him.
The waves of the very, very, lazy beast.
As it slinked across the corner.
Walking on two feet.
Twas’ was a beast of orange, yellow, and black. Winkled and wizened, his age of thousands of circles upon a tree stump. One could not describe him physically as his very presence an eldritch being beyond nouns and writ.
But one could sense, beyond the dimensions of the world:
A smile.
An ugly, ugly smile covered with crumbs that was simply wrong,
Wrong in the ape brain that inhabits the best of us.
And Jon Arbuckle the Weak, facing the god of the world decried:
“What the hell did you do to my couch!?!”
The beast crossed its arms.
When did you start to swear at me? I demand compensation for this slander.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Jon cried. “You’re the one who scratched my couch! You’re the one that costs me millions! Don’t you dare mock me!”
What do you mean?
Jon groaned, dragging his fingers down his face.
“Don’t tell me you forgot…”
I have a perfect memory, the beast retorted. Don’t test my patience.
“Look!” Jon shouted, pointing at the destroyed artifact. “Look at what you have done! My precious! I was thinking of watching some Netflix shows but now my night is RUINED because you don’t consider other people!”
But I do consider other people. I just consider them dumber than rocks.
“Are you even listening to me?”
The beast dragged its body towards the couch before planting its feet right before it’s whitened flesh and gore. Touching one of the springs delicately before it suddenly sprung and fell out on the floor. He looked back and Jon sensed a deep judgment coming from the beast.
“What the hell are you judging me for?”
It should be obvious, your dork. You’ve done a terrible job with the couch. It’s my favorite claw sharpener and it deserves to be treated gently.
“Are you blaming ME for the destruction!?!”
Saliva flew from Jon’s lips and the beast backed away.
Gross.
“I am your owner!” Jon cried to the beast. “I feed you every day, I clean your gross ass litter, I give you house and sleep, I gave you everything! So why can’t you give me a single shred of respect? A single semblance of dignity?”
What’s with your mood today? The beast hummed to the rhythm of disrespect. You’re usually not this bad. Is it a Monday?
Jon began to wag his finger at Garfield, face red.
“Oh I sense your sarcasm, I know it like I know the pain of a fist! You did something else, didn’t you? I just KNOW it!”
Poor you. The beast remarked. Going insane, now I see.
Jon looked around, wiping sweat from his head (again).
“Yeah… like…”
He sniffed the air.
“The smell of… Doritos.”
He paused.
“Doritos.”
Before he knew it, his body was already rushing to the pantry. The house a blur, and his legs kicking open the door to the food.
To see the bags of Doritos. Which seemed… full?
But as he tore that bag, pulling it away, he noticed that it was the only one there. The dozen other bags simply missing.
Jon began to collapse to his knees.
“My… my… food. My money. My love.”
A shadow beside him.
Oh yeah, that. I thought you already noticed.
“…my dignity… my life…”
The feeling of his head being patted,
There, there, your geekness. You may yell at me for no reason, but I forgive you. We have argured for long enough. Why don’t we watch some tv together? Just you and me?
“…”
The next hour held a certain emptiness that not even an empty soccer could hold. The kind of emptiness of body, of mind, of soul. The mark of the beast.
Jon could only sense following the shadow of the beast back to the living room. The beast shoving the floor popcorn back to the bowl. The beast hopping onto the couch, squashing the front pad, and making it groan loudly. The sound of the tv turning on.
Disney Plus it is for today.
From thousands of miles away, Jon Arbuckle, the ordinary began to mumble:
“I wanted Netflix.”
Garfield snorted.
Netflix is dead.
“I wanted Netfix.”
The cat began to flip through several shows.
The leg rest isn’t opening, the cat complained. And these shows fucking suck.
“I wanted Netflix,”
After several hours, the cat landed on some generic superhero show and binge watched it all night long. And Jon didn't do anything because that was the order of things, and the order of life, of his entire existence, wasn’t going to change anytime soon.