Special Delivery

The delivery driver has the most adorably fearful look I’ve seen in a while. By all rights he should be running, given that he’s just rolled out of his truck, barely escaping it before the giant monster that caught it under paw flattened it like a pancake.

At least, that’s the story on the young tabby cat’s face. The truth of that matter is that—at least so far—the giant monster hasn’t flattened his truck; it’s just rolling it back and forth like a toy. He might not be running because it’s so obvious the monster could just swing that paw around and flatten him like a pancake.

Or, it’s possible he’s not running because he’s not really sure how dangerous the monster’s going to be to him, since she explicitly told him to get out of his truck before she damaged it. And now that he can get a good look up at her towering form, it’s just possible he thinks the monster is hot.

“You—you—” he manages to get out.

I stop rolling his truck back and forth and lean forward, putting my weight on the paw that’s flat on the ground. “Yes?”

“You were—you were on the news! People talking about you. A giant mouse lady that destroyed a dance club.”

“That was me,” I agree. I could pretend there might be another tawny-furred giant mouse girl around, but there isn’t.

“You’re even bigger than I—uh—” He swallows, backing up, looking around, then returning to my face, still far over his cute little head despite my near-crouch.

We’re in a nice residential neighborhood. Mostly nice. I’ve left all the houses intact except the fake Spanish revival style ones. Those have always annoyed me. There are a few car alarms going off, at least one set off when I stomped a BMW to silence its car alarm. It’s a never-ending battle. I wait expectantly, radar dish ears tilted.

“Are you gonna kill me?” he says weakly, ears folded back.

“I just wanted something fun to roll around under my paw.”

He stiffens, then blinks, looking ahead at his truck. And at my big paw, the rounded, feral-looking toes. I wiggle the toes around the truck, and I watch his eyes follow them subtly. That’s what I thought. Good.

“I…uh…I know I can’t stop you, but my truck’s really valuable with all the packages on it…”

I lean down and give him a huge smile, showing off my teeth. “I didn’t mean the truck.”

He doesn’t quite get ten yards away before I catch him between two toes. Moving carefully, I walk toward one of the nicer lawns nearby, turn to face the street, and sit down.

“Hey! Hey!” He’s mewing and squealing, and wriggling in a fun ticklish way. I lift that paw off the ground and let him drop, then slowly lower the paw again, making sure he’s face up as the pad comes down. I lean forward and grin again, his face just barely visible between two toes.

“Please!” His voice is even higher-pitched now.

I blow him a kiss, and start rolling my paw back and forth over him.

His noises get even more terrified. Of course. But soon they get…flustered. They’re even more pleading, but he’s not begging me to stop because he’s afraid he’s going to die.

“It’s okay,” I say soothingly. “Show me how much you like being there.”

That earns me an even more frantic, pleading squeal. Even as the flustered twitching gets just a little more…rhythmic.

Smiling victoriously, I lean back, the house crumpling under my weight, and close my eyes, slipping a hand into my shorts, soon moving both hand paw and foot paw in time with the trapped driver’s thrusts. I don’t care if he truly likes being there or not. But oh, yes, I so very much like having him there.