The Novel Cat

So, the writer

assumed he was real

though he'd been assigned his role

beyond being someone else's idea

he knew he had better things to do

like go to bed.

But, hey, he said to that cat,

that seemed to be sitting on his

bedroom pillow-

you're not there.

See, you're not a cat,

you're a "novel" cat,

a cat, I'm writing about in a novel,

I made you up this morning,

Get it? You've got only one purpose-

you represent the baby Nancy can't have

and Harry resents you.

That's why you pee on his pillow.

Are we clear?

You're just a symbol,

of longing,

but you don't belong here.

You're an imagined idea,

a dynamic to heighten the central conflict.

I'm just using you as a device, see?

Outside of my book,

you're nothing to me.

But, by the way, tomorrow I'm writing

some big scenes-

a speeding truck, some flattened fur-

hey, don't take it personally.

Your bloody pancake death

will be the pivotal point

that reveals what a heartless bastard Harry really is.

It sets Nancy free.

So scram. I gotta get some sleep.

(The cat leaves.)

The writer lays down.

What the hell is that smell on my pillow?