HERCULES

It all started in the dreadful summer of 2017. I was 12 years old and awkward. So.. so awkward. I have a theory that you fall into a wallowing pit of awkwardness in the tween years and don’t crawl out of the pit until you’re at least 80. Those who disagree with me are liars and I hate them. But I’m losing focus, I tend to do that once I put pen to paper. (Or rather fingers to keys) My papers for school end up looking like a mix of the ramblings of a man named Philip who simply adores chicken parmesan and an essay about the crime rate in the suburbs of New York. 

Before I lost focus, I was talking about the dreadful summer of 2017. I don’t use the word dreadful lightly. Or maybe I do. I don’t know, honestly, that’s for you to decide. Whoever “you” are, I’m honestly not sure why I’m writing this account. Maybe I feel it’s my obligation. You know, like I’m just obligated to write down everything that happens to me ever due to my rights as a Free American. It’s what the founding fathers would do, after all. Didn’t ol’ Benny Franklin have like six million diaries or something? Well, there I went again. Another bit of word vomit for you, Dear Reader. Okay, so where was I? Right. Ok.

PICTURE IT: Dreadful summer of 2017. 12-year-old Narrator. I had no friends and serious intentions of playing World of Warcraft and Runescape all summer and ensuring my skin turned the same hue as a fluorescent light bulb. My parents were working almost every day, of course, I didn’t pay much attention to their comings and goings because I was 12. I woke up bright and early on one very fine Wednesday afternoon. Wednesdays were very fine because around 2 PM that day my whole Raid Party on WoW (World of Warcraft for any video game illiterates that happen to be reading) would be online. I had to get some breakfast before my hot video game date with approximately fifteen middle-aged basement dwellers. I went into the kitchen to fix a bowl of Fortunate Tokens, sometimes the generic brand tastes better than the actual cereal. This was not the case with Fortunate Tokens, the marshmallows were as always hard as a rock and the actual cereal part of it wasn’t any better. 

There I was in the kitchen, a bowl in one hand and a box of cereal in the other. I was getting ready to set both of the aforementioned items on the kitchen table when I saw him. Or at least I saw a smallish figure that looked a smidge like a cat. Or rather looked like a kitten. The figure was tiny and I mean seriously minuscule. He was sitting by the front door, I still have no idea how he got in. But there he sat, gazing at me. The bowl and box in my hands were completely forgotten and hanging limply by my sides. Thank God there wasn’t any cereal (or black horror… MILK) in the bowl yet. I approached the little guy cautiously, my feet sliding across the tile floor in small, undetectable motions. Well, I thought they were undetectable at least. The little kitten could detect them very easily, I saw his ears perk up and his eyes start to glow in the way that only cats' eyes can glow. I halted, at this point in my life as unfamiliar as I was with feline creatures I knew to be wary about even the smallest of them. I didn’t want to end up with scratches all up and down my body. So there I stood, frozen like the statue of Davey, or whatever that statue the Ninja Turtles made is called. The kitten just remained planted by my front door. As if he owned it or something. He did not own it. My parents owned that door and the house he was comfortably residing in. Didn’t he know that? I could’ve called the police on him. Honestly, in hindsight, maybe I should’ve. But could you imagine how that call would’ve gone?

“911, what is your emergency?” 

“Uhhhh... Yeah, hi. There is a cat sitting by my front door and he looks very menacing. I don’t like the way he’s mean-mugging me. Could you send at least two police officers? He might be a biter.”

“Young man, there are people with real emergencies, where are your paren-”

Click

Yeah, now that I think about it, I definitely don’t think that would’ve been the way to go. So back to the story, I know you must be on the edge of your seat in anticipation. There I was, standing there and I realized that I really only had two options at this point. I could either: A. Continue towards the little creature or B. Go back to the kitchen table and eat my breakfast and act like he’s not there. Neither of them were really calling to me. I didn’t have a gut feeling, you know? We all get those gut feelings when you’re taking a test and the answer is just calling to you, right? Well, either way, nothing was calling to me. So I created a new option: C. Continue standing there like a nincompoop. I was satisfied with my problem-solving skills. I stood there and tried to have absolutely no facial expression whatsoever. But you know I wouldn’t be telling you this story if it ended there, with me in a stand-off with this miniature stuffed animal-sized kitten. Unless, of course, I was a jerk who enjoyed wasting the time of unsuspecting readers. But I’m NOT a jerk who enjoys wasting the time of unsuspecting readers. You trust me, right? 

As I was getting used to my power stance, the kitten let out a tiny little mew. If I was any older or any less attentive, I probably wouldn’t have even heard it. As soon as I recognized the sound, the kitten was up. Now your first thought when I say “up” is that the kitten stood up. I wish that were the case, but no, when I say “up” I mean that it was up like… in the air. You definitely think I’m lying at this point and yes I certainly could be. But please keep reading I’m going to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m not lying. Seriously, this kitten went on to do stuff that someone couldn’t possibly make up. 

“What the h-”, I started to say something a 12-year-old considers very explicit when I was cut off by the loud boom that the kitten produced. It sounded like the mew it made before, except it seemed to be coming from the loudspeakers of a baseball stadium, and the speakers were right against both of my ears. My house shook around me, and I nearly lost my footing. The “power stance” I adopted was not so powerful after all. I ended up looking like a baby giraffe stumbling about the living room. The bowl and box of cereal I had been holding slipped out of my grasp and clattered onto the floor. The loud mew continued to resonate against the walls of the small room. It got quieter and quieter though, and eventually, the shaking subsided. I wanted to know what that Cat-Catastrophe would rate on the Richter Scale. The cat didn’t seem to realize that all the noise and shaking came from him. He had a perplexed look on his face and was vibrating from fear. If someone would’ve been watching the two of us at that point, I think they would’ve noticed that we both had the same reaction. I was shaking so much that it almost felt like the cat-quake hadn’t stopped. 

“It’s okay, little guy, come here.” I tried to use the same tone of voice I had heard my parents use countless times when I was scared of something. I outstretched my arms, the universal body language for ‘bring it in, man’. The recognition in his eyes made me believe that he actually understood English. He floated right over to me and bumped into my chest. The way he bumped off my chest reminded me of a kitten astronaut, floating around in his space station, bounding off the walls. I brought my arms back and gently held him against me. Understanding that I had him and that he was safe, he released his float and I could feel his weight against my arms. Well, actually there wasn’t much weight there. If you have held a tiny animal before, it really does feel like you’re holding a little bundle of fur filled with helium. Maybe he could float so well because he practically was weightless. 

The rest of that summer went by like a blur. Somewhere along the way, I started calling the little guy “Hercules”. Seemed like he liked it, so the name stuck. World of Warcraft was the last of my worries after meeting him. He grew so fast and it seemed like he got more powerful every day. It was hard being friends with a super-cat. I didn’t really have to care for him. He’d go fly away to take care of his business and he found food while flying outside too, I guess. Or maybe Hercules doesn’t even have to eat. I don’t know. 

Though being friends with Hercules certainly did have its benefits. A moment from that summer that I remember in vivid detail was when he prevented me from certain doom. I was sitting in the tub, taking what I considered an “ice bath”. Really it was just room temperature water with a cup’s worth of ice dumped in. It was a well-deserved cup of ice though. Hercules and I had spent all day playing “cat-ball”. It was basically me just throwing a baseball as far as I could and Hercules zooming to catch it. Nothing else really matches the thrill of cat-ball. It was so exciting to watch him zoom after the ball.  Anyway, I had been in the bath long enough that all eight of the ice cubes had melted and I finally decided to do the actual washing part of the bath. I had a new bottle of soap next to the sink and I reached for it. It was the kind of reach where you lean your whole body towards the object you’re trying to grab. I almost had it when the door blew open at the speed of light and I was propelled backward. Despite the heavy force I landed gently back in the tub. Hercules was floating innocently beside me. 

“What was that for?” I asked. I fully expected Hercules to answer too. I was staring him down for quite a while before I realized that there was no way for him to respond. So instead I look around the bathroom for something that would clue me in. It didn’t take me long for me to deduce his reasoning. Right beside the soap was the hair dryer. I traced the cord from the hair dryer with my eyes and realized that it was plugged into the wall. My sister was definitely going to get an earful from me. I could’ve died!! Death by pink hairdryer!! I guess Hercules must have some sort of “Bath-Danger-Level” sense. It’s a good thing too because I’d be a cooked narrator if not.

Before I knew it, I woke up and it was the first day of school. I can’t even remember shopping for supplies. But I grabbed my backpack and went to rub Hercules’s head. That’s when I realized that he wasn’t in my room. He was always in my room whenever I woke up. He had good timing like that, I guess. But not then. I discounted it, thinking that maybe it was a weird morning for both of us. I left the house and went to school. My first day of 8th grade certainly wasn’t noteworthy. Mostly, I was worried about Hercules. I hadn’t seen him all day. I thought maybe he’d fly by and say hello while I was in school. After eight hours of misery, the bell went off, and the school day was over. I rushed home and there was no sign of Hercules anywhere.

I’d love to say that he came back that night, or even at some point that week. But I can’t, that would be lying. I want this entire account to be truthful. You might be thinking that the story ends here. But there’s one more mysterious thing that happened…

PICTURE IT: Dreadful 8th-grade year, just after Christmas break. 13-year-old narrator. I wasn’t exactly popular and to some extent, I was kind of hated. When you’re funny like me, there’s a chance that some people won’t like your jokes all that much. I made some enemies with my jokes. One of those enemies really had a bone to pick with me. I won’t name any names. But there I was... just sitting on the playground, minding my own business when all of a sudden I feel a hard blow against my face. The next thing I know I’m on the ground and I see the guy standing over me. I decided to just allow it to happen. I’m a jester, not a fighter. He raised his arm to strike me again when all of a sudden he flew out of my vision. Like seriously flew. One second he was there one second he wasn’t. Still dazed, I looked around the playground and finally spotted him after a few seconds. 

To the casual observer, it might look like he was taking a nap against a tree at the far end of the playground. But I could tell by the way he was slumped that he wasn’t napping by choice. The impact must have knocked him unconscious. And in the corner of my eye, I swear I saw a gray blur speeding into the sky. 

That little blur in the corner of my eye was the last I ever “saw” of Hercules. I miss him so much. But he certainly served as a source of inspiration for me. If a little cat like Hercules can have super strength? I definitely have the strength to get through high school. I find myself thinking about him all the time. Little things remind me of him. Things like.. Fortunate Tokens or Hair Dryers. I’ve seen some stuff pop in the news about local crimes being stopped in their tracks by “a blur”. Witnesses will say that one second they were being held at gunpoint and the next the criminal would be unconscious on the floor. The news likes to spice it up and say things like “divine intervention” or “fate being on their side”. But I think that I know what’s really happening. I just think that Hercules is on our side. Which is probably good. Can you imagine an EVIL magic, flying cat? Scary thought.

I guess now is the part where I wrap everything up in a little neat bow. I can already imagine what you’re thinking: “Flying cat? No way, man. Impossible.” Honestly, if I hadn’t seen him fly with my own eyes, I wouldn’t either. I never had the idea to record him and Hercules was really shy so I don’t have anyone to corroborate my story. Basically, I know that I can never prove any of this, but I thought the world needed to hear my story. Thanks, Reader.