Mutant Cats ft. Frat Boy Cop

Date: 8/3/2017

My girlfriend and I were house-sitting for my godmother who was out of town. She'd just gotten two new cats. One was orange and one was black and white. They appeared to be totally normal, but there was something sinister about them that I couldn't put my finger on. We were just about to go to bed when the orange cat, Billy Bob (she has an actual cat with this name) came into the room. He stood there and stared at us for a moment before standing on his hind legs and growing into the size of a large and chubby toddler. His claws grew into Edward-Scissorhands-esque blades. He ran toward us and began attacking us. The other cat, now bigger, standing up right and clad with blade-hands, came running into the room behind him. They both came at us and told us (suddenly they could speak) that they were going to kill us. My girlfriend and I ran past them and went downstairs, where we apparently had a extensive knife collection. We each chose two knives and ran back upstairs to battle with these homicidal cats. I stabbed the black and white one repeatedly, and it eventually died. After a really long stretch of us both trying to kill the orange one, my girlfriend finally hit him in the side of the head with one of the knives. He didn't die--he started slurring he words like he was drunk and stumbling around, then laid down on the floor, still conscious, in a weird vegetative state. We left the room to clean the knives and put them away, and when we came back, the cats had returned to their regular form, but the one was still dead and the other was still brain-dead. We both felt very strongly we should call the police for some reason, but we didn't know how we were going to explain what had happened without getting in trouble for killing/injuring two tiny and seemingly innocent animals. We called anyways and just hoped the cops would be understanding. A few minutes later, an old 1950s Cadillac (with a sloppy police car paint job) pulled up blasting trap music. The cop inside was holding a beer in one hand and could barely keep the car straight. He was like 18 and looked like a stereotypical frat boy from a movie. He parked on my lawn. When he came in, we explained what happened, and he told us to just throw the bodies over the wall, stating that it was "totally cool, man" and he's "sure it happens all the time."