Cat Out of Hell Read Online Free PDF

dressing-gowns, place-mats, trousers).
2) A story about an East End gangster who had apparentlytaken his own life by jumping off the roof of a car park near the 2012 Olympic Stadium.
3) The obituary of some obscure academic from Cambridge.
    No idea what to make of any of this, and as I said, I can’t even ask at the moment. Miaow, miaow; miaow, miaow, miaow. He really is a bastard, Roger. He won’t tell me what has happened to Jo – or he has to tell me his whole so-called life story first, which will take several bloody years at the rate he’s going. And then he clams up for a week and just does cryptic crosswords in his head , making contented purring noises to let me know how clever he’s being. Sorry to get worked up, but how the hell do you talk to a cat like Roger? Whichever approach you take, you feel like a total idiot. On the one hand, you can’t say normal cat things like, “Ooh, what’s for your dinner tonight? Is it a bit of lovely fishy-wishy?” He’s the feline equivalent of Stephen Fry, for God’s sake! On the other hand, what if someone came in and I was saying to the cat, “Oh, Roger, I forgot to say. I bought you that copy of Shaw’s Man and Superman you asked for. Where would you like me to put it?”
    If Roger never spoke again, would I mind? It’s a toss-up. It’s certainly a lot more peaceful round here when he’s in “proper cat” (or what I call PC) mode. But when he’s not talking, I feel I’m making no progress, and might as well be dead. I don’t know what to do with myself. I did have a look through Jo’s binoculars yesterday, and saw hardly any birds at all, so what a waste of time. Puzzling, though. Whatever Jo was watching for, she saw it virtually every day – in fact, this is quite interesting, on the day she called me, she made a note of seeing it at about 3:30 in the afternoon – which would be just before she called me at the theatre! The handwriting is quite shaky, so she must have been excited. Also, thinking about it,wouldn’t it have been almost dark by then? Well, that means it can’t be birds! To be honest, this makes me even more keen on the aliens theory. Maybe that’s what she kept seeing … a flying saucer! Maybe she just had time to pick up the J-Dog and “Whoosh!” – up they both went, off across the dramatic coastline of Littlehampton and beyond to the Isle of Wight. (Although she did have time to call me first, which slightly ruins that scenario.)
    Talking of scenarios, I had another go at a bit of proper writing at the weekend, but it’s hard to get a grip on it somehow. Ever since Roger suggested Daniel Craig to play him “in the film,” I can’t help picturing him dressed in a shiny designer suit, running along the top of a train as it goes round really tight corners coming out of Istanbul. He’s got quite an idea of himself, hasn’t he? I play along with that Nine Lives story of his, but I don’t care about any of this stuff – why should I? He could be making the whole thing up. And meanwhile, I learn nothing about what’s happened to Jo – nothing . That policeman came back today and asked whether I’d had the mobile looked at yet. I think he was quite surprised when I got it out of the fridge to give it to him, but he didn’t say.
    ROGER SCREENPLAY 2
    (by Wiggy)
    A cottage by the sea. Peaceful . WIGGY strolls into kitchen, lights cigarette, fills kettle, casually opens fridge. BOND-TYPE ACTION MUSIC as ROGER explodes out of fridge, lands on WIGGY ’s shoulder, and delivers a devastating range of blows on WIGGY, who drops to his knees .
WIGGY
( yells )
No! Roger!
    More blows. NB: ROGER makes no cliché squalling cat-fight noises. He is silent, focused, methodical, assassin-like. (This makes it more scary.) WIGGY ’s arterial blood spurts and pours onto kitchen floor .
WIGGY
( naturalistically )
But how did you open the – ?
I thought you didn’t know how to open the – !
Get off!
    A final coup-de-grace swipe to the throat