Mr. Padilla, you're daughter's told us you're hurt. Are you able to unlock this door? Are you having an emergency?

Here is a scene sketch I wrote this morning. Enjoy!

“Dad they’re here. Dad they’re here, get up.”

Knock—knock—knock—“Mr. Padilla?”

“Tell them to go.”

Knock—knock—knock—“Mr. Padilla, your daughter’s told us you’re hurt. Are you able to unlock this door? Are you having an emergency?”


“Don’t touch it!”

The fan spins. The floor is yellow. The television is playing a blue show and talking low. A man in a sour robe half-lies on a floral couch; one bloodless hand presses against his side, the other trembles through a tangle of grey and white fur that burbles with purrs. The cat’s face is pinched and collapsed between its eyes. The nose sweats and dribbles mucous over her mouth. It blinks and the gold crust around its eyes snap. “Gone and killed my fool self haven’t I St. Sebastian?” the man says. St. Sebastian purrs.


A young girl enters from the kitchen and holds out a black cellphone. “Oh-my-god Dad you’re going to freaking die right now, okay, I’m letting them in.” She leaves.

The man tries to reach for the girl, “Meagan don’t,” but as soon as he relieves pressure he cries out. He contorts his jaw then replaces the hand with a whimper. “Meagan!”


“Yes, please in here.”

Meagan returns flanked by two jump-suited men, draped with rubber tubes and plastic instruments, who drop to their knees before the robed man. “Hello, sir? My name’s Neil and this is my partner, Benjamin. We’re here to help you, all right?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Hold on,” Neil says, “can you tell us your name?”

“You’ve been hollering it at my door for an hour; terrorizing Sebastian.”

“Tell us your name sir.” This is Benjamin. He is a broad, black man, and much more serious than his mate.

“Abraham Padilla, damn you!”

“Mr. Padilla,” Neil says, “I see that you’re protecting that side a little bit, do you mind if I take a look?”

“I do.” Abraham pulls Sebastian to his chest. “You’re doctors right? My cat, poor St. Sebastian, is sick, maybe you can check—ow-cha-christ!” Benjamin pins the man’s arm against the back cushion while Neil goes in with a light clenched in his teeth. “No, no! Get off! Owww. Ouwwch-cha!”

“Mr. Padilla, you’re going to tear yourself up,” Benjamin says.

“Calm down sir, you’re bleeding pretty bad here.” The young girl lets go a sob then covers her mouth and nose. “Benjamin, get this cat.”

“No! she’s sick, I can’t leave her!”

“Sir, stop moving, please—Benjamin!”

Benjamin rushes to tear the creature from Abraham’s side, but he will not give up the cat. Benjamin wrenches, Abraham grips tighter. The daughter is screaming now. Louder. Louder. Fur and hisses fill the room. The medical team becomes crocodile wranglers, wrestling the last strip of meat from the jaws of a starving male. Benjamin finally leaps off the man and rummages through his medical equipment until he finds a fat needle full of milky liquid.

“Hurry up, I can’t hold him,” Neil says.

Benjamin returns and punches the syringe into Abraham’s thigh. The man kicks and curses then falls into a squirming half-sleep as the paramedics continue their work.






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