Meet another monster in my family: Bouboule, my grand-mother's cat. He is evil. I mean it: he is evil. Look in his eyes, and you'll see that he would like to eat your face. Fortunately, this cat is not one of the most vivace in the world: he spends the whole day (and sometimes week, or month) lazying in a box. He only moves a little to get his food, that my grand-mother bought for him. He has nothing of a hunter.Roughly one month ago, my grand-mother didn't see him in the house before she locked it. For once, he had to be outside. The days passed, and one week later, she thought he had been smashed by a car, and now rotting on a road, eaten by the flies. But no! This cat is evil! He came back! An aura of evil, I say. Normally, we say that a cat's got 9 lifes, but this one not only lived these 9 lifes, but also another 10, I think… My mother says that he was part of the cast of The Pet Semetary (sic), a film from a horror book by Stephen King, in which two childs bury a cat in an ancient Indian Cemetery, and then the cat comes back—with a vengence… Wicked.
