Creepy - A Brand New Kingdom

Episode Date: December 2, 2019

What are you without your anger?***Written by TW Grim and guest narrated by Nate Dufort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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or not simply fabrications, is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents A Brand New Kingdom Written by T.W. Grimm With guest narration by Nate DuFort, Jerry awoke with a startled gasp

as cats were trying to break into the bathroom again. He clamped his hands over his mouth to muffle the scream. His heart was slamming like a piston in his chest. It was pumping away at a panic-driven pace that Jerry feared might actually kill him. Jerry thought, rabbits die of fright. And a fresh curtain of tears began rolling down his face. They trickled over the drying blood on his face and dripped off his chin in red-tinged droplets. The burst of rapid fire scratching at the door, followed by a solid thunk as a furry

determined little body slammed into the other side. The impact rattled the door in its frame. Claws ripped noisily at the hallway carpet, trying to dig beneath the barrier that separated them from their target. He closed his eyes and curled into a tight little ball on the cold tile. He whispered. as he hugged himself a little tighter. From the top of his head and clear down to his shoes,

Jerry was covered with dozens of deep oozing scratches and punctures. His shirt and pants were shredded and stiff with drying splashes of maroon. It looked like he'd been mauled by a wild animal. Jerry considered the shower curtain rod and tried to imagine himself using it as a weapon, Even thinking about such a thing made him feel almost unbearably anxious and uncomfortable. He simply wasn't capable of doing something like that. Not anymore. It was only a six-foot drop from the window to the ground below.

But that was also no longer an option. Stepping foot outside the walls of his home would be certain death. Jerry croaked. Birds! Birds! and bugs and squirrels. He heard a thin, faint scream through the open window. There was the squeal of tires locking up on pavement, closely followed by a crunching impact.

He whispered, skunks and raccoons and snakes. Puffin and Lily continued their single-minded assault on the door, growling low in their throats as they tried to claw through the cheap wood laminated veneer. Jerry plugged his ears with his fingers and closed his eyes. This is how it ends, I guess. Jerry quavered to himself. Birds and bogging cats. More faint screams were trickling in through the window.

There were hectic sirens and blaring car horns. The oral patchwork of a disaster in progress. The meeting were in the process of inheriting the earth. and they would show their oppressors no mercy. Jerry saw an ad in the help-wanted section of the paper that morning. A small blurb crammed between an obvious marketing scam and a call for cruise ship attendance. Come see the world with us. Apply today. The ad read.

Test subject needed for behavioral experiment. Age 18 to 70. $150. call now and we will save the world. Jerry had been out of work for almost six weeks and things weren't looking so hot. Like most working-class stiffs, he'd been living paycheck to paycheck for as long as he could remember, with fuck-all padding saved up to carry him through a rough patch. At this point, $150 would be a godsend if the ad was legitimate.

It seemed doubtful, given the... the scant information it provided. No names, no address, no email address. Nothing but a phone number and a vague but enthusiastic proclamation that his participation would save the world. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. Still, though, even the possibility of that much cash was definitely worth a phone call. Desperate enough, in fact, to linger over a small coffee.

for almost 45 minutes while he used the coffee shop's free Wi-Fi to email resumes. His home internet access had been cut off a week ago for non-payment. Jerry's call was answered on the first ring. A deep somber voice with a clipped European accent rumbled. Um, hi. How are you? My name's Jerry Butler. I saw your ad in the paper this morning. I'm interested in applying to be the subject in your experiment.

The voice on the other end of the line perked up at this and boomed. Jerry, with a G. Last name, Butler. Can you maybe tell me something about your experiment first? Jerry frowned at his coffee cup. Look, I'll be honest here. I'm not sure if I feel comfortable going into this blind, you know? Maybe you can...

$200 in cash. Dr. Kroll sounded irritated, as if he'd already had this exact same conversation dozens of times that morning. This is weird, Jerry thought. And he said, Really, Mr. Kroll, that'd be fantastic. But I'd really like to know what you're planning to do with your test subject. What sort of behavioral experiment is this?

What are you studying? He almost choked. Five hundred? Holy shit. Hey. Jerry stammered. Honestly, I could use the money. and this is really tempting,

but I don't know if I feel comfortable with this. I don't see why you can't give me any details over the... One thousand dollars. Jerry said, I'll do it. Before he was even aware, he was about to speak. A thousand bucks in the palm of his hand. Jerry needed money,

and he needed it now, yesterday, last fucking week. It wouldn't be much longer before he'd be forced to head on down and take a number in the well. welfare line. He was desperate. It can come right now. Jerry pulled out a pen and tore off a ragged strip off the edge of the newspaper.

What's the address? Dr. Kroll rattled off the address and added, Arrived as soon as possible. Jerry started to say, I'll be there soon, before he realized that the call had already ended. He raised his eyebrows at his cell phone and muttered, I'm going to be murdered for my kidneys. kidneys. His waitress happened to be wandering by at that moment, and she turned to him with a wary look on her face. Sorry, hon. I didn't catch that. Nothing, Jerry said. Job interview.

Right. The waitress gave him an encouraging smile. Just relaxing to yourself. You'll do fine. More coffee? No thanks. He mumbled. Gotta go. Can't be late. That's what they want to see. She chirped. Punctuality.

Go get him, hon. Manufactured a smile. I will. Thanks. Outside the coffee shop, the sun was breaking through the gray, drizzling cloud cover to illuminate the sidewalk with rays of gold. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. All I got to do is not get key.

killed, Jerry thought, and he had to laugh a bit at how ridiculous the whole thing was. Why was he even going through with it? Dr. Kroll was obviously a certified grade A free-range wakadoodle. He had to be. I am looking for the test subject of my Zupra secret experiment. Jerry muttered, mocking Dr. Kroll's accent. I will take your spleen and throw you in the river. But what if he was a wack?

who happened to have a thousand bucks to burn. It could happen. As far as he knew, it might be difficult to find volunteers for stuff like that, psychological testing and all that sort of thing. Jerry didn't know jack's shit about medical research. He knew all about unpaid bills, though. Unpaid bills and loitering over cold cups of dog shit tasting coffee.

Don't be a chicken shit. No harm in checking it out, right? Look at this fucking car. Jerry's Nissan was ten years old, and it needed some work. The front bearings were getting steadily noisier. The brakes were starting to squeal, and his exhaust system was corroded to the point where it might crumble into pieces at any time. Maybe it'll be good. Jerry told himself, and he slid behind the wheel.

Please, let this be real. Please. He rolled into traffic on a small wave of hope and breaking sunshine. It was a fine, warm day in early June, and for the first time in weeks, Jerry didn't feel like the world was about to end. Jerry was dismayed to discover that Dr. Kroll's office was in a fairly ghetto area of town. It was a neighborhood full of abandoned warehouses, boarded up convenience stores and dingy apartment buildings with scraggly weeds,

eking out a harsh existence and long-forgotten flower beds. He pulled up in front of an office block that had seen better days. It appeared to be largely abandoned. Some of the windows were broken when there was a litter of empty beer cans in the entranceway. Nope, not good? He muttered to himself. Look at this shit. He stepped into a lobby that was dimly lit and deserted.

It smelled pungently of must and mothballs. The reception desk was coated with a furry layer of dust. Jerry took a long, hard look around him and almost walked out. It wasn't right. Nothing he was looking at was right. Was this guy illegally squatting in an empty building? to wake up in a tub full of ice. He whispered to himself, then raised his voice and called out,

Hello? Hey, anybody here? Gary spied a directory list hanging on the wall. There was only one little bronze-colored plate glued to the old wooden directory board. I read Dr. Otto Kroll. Room 215. Jerry tapped it with his finger thoughtfully. It was shiny and new.

The only shiny new object in the entire lobby. A thousand bucks! Jerry breathed, and it got him moving again. He wandered past the reception desk and fell in the stairs. He had to check it out. Had to. After all, he'd come this far, hadn't he? He would remain alert and aware of his surroundings.

And if anything felt off, he would be. gone. He opened the door before Jerry could even start knocking. Crowle was a large, sloped-shouldered man in the twilight of middle age. He was wearing shapeless gray trousers and a cardigan sweater that looked like it was manufactured in the early 80s. He looked like the linebacker who had retired to become a librarian in a small town. Crowl scowled down at him through the thick lenses of his glasses. You are Gerald Butler. Jerry. Yeah.

The older man dug into the hip pocket of his pants and thrust a banded stack of paper into Jerry's hand. It was $1,000 and $50 bills. There's your money. Come in. Dr. Kroll stepped back and Jerry entered the office, marveling at the wad of money in his hand. He's ushered through a cluttered space to an old bench-style love seat with an ornately curved backrest. Sit. Kroll ordered. He pulled up a rolling office chair and hunkered his bulk with a wheeze and a sigh.

So now you are here and I am not trying to kill you. You can relax and calm yourself. He rumbled. You look like you might try to jump out the window soon. Jerry forced himself to lean back and stopped looking at the door. He said, Okay. So why am I here exactly?

To make history. Kroll scooted closer to Jerry and took a penlight out of his cardigan. He shone it into Jerry's eyes and asked, How's your health? Your heart in circulation? Do you have any allergies to medications? I'm in good shape, I guess. No allergies.

Kroll snapped off the penlight and Jerry blinked, seeing spots. You think you are, Vell? A strong young man. You are not well. You are very sick. That's news to me. Jerry tried to play it off as a joke, but Dr. Kroll wasn't smiling. News.

Watch the evening news and then you will see. We are all very sick. I intend to make us all well again. I don't have a clue what you're talking about, sir. What is this exactly? What the hell am I doing here? Ah, there it is. Crowl's side.

He rolled the chair back to make some room for his legs, then leaned back with a grunt. The irritation. Your teeth clenched together. Your heart is beating faster. This has only been a minor inconvenience for you, and I have paid you handsomely for this inconvenience. And yet, what is your reality? action to the situation.

Jerry shifted uncomfortably on the hard cushion beneath his ass. Well, what do you expect? You wouldn't tell me anything over the phone, and you still aren't telling me anything, and I feel aggression, and why? Because something is unknown to you, because you have encountered a situation that is not completely within your control. But is this a rational response for a brain so well developed? Should we as rational and logical creatures still have the same reaction to opposition as would an animal?

I think, no. The doctor abruptly heaved himself to his feet and lumbered over to a crowded bookshelf. He picked up a framed picture and waved it at him. Aggression, Gerald, is the symptom of our disease. Every race, every culture, every civilization that has ever existed. We all suffer from the same affliction. Kroll handed the picture to Jerry, a black and white photograph of a man in a double-breasted suit jacket, his eyes dark and somber above a heavy mustache.

My father. Dr. Kroll said. Our surname was not always Kroll. My father changed it shortly before we left Europe. In those days, if it was vice, a Jewish name. Oh, Jerry murmured, and then. Oh, um, he... They put him in a labor camp with my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, cousins most of my extended family.

At gunpoint, the soldiers forced them to board a cattle car. It was the middle of winter, and there was much suffering. When they reached the end of the line, they experienced cruelty of the likes my father had never imagined possible. Kroll plucked the picture frame out of Jerry's hand and put it back on the shelf. Eva's a child. Only ten years old. He watched his parents die, his brothers, his neighbors, everyone he had ever known, of all the people who lived to see the Allies liberate the camp.

That's awful. Jerry looked longingly at the door. He would be more than happy to give back the cash at this point. he just wanted to leave that never should have happened no it should not croles said in his eyes blazed my father studied to become a physician he was a neurologist he knew that such an evil as the holocaust could only be the product of a sick mind but he asked himself is this sickness physical or psychological in nature he came to believe that it is a degenerative disease of the brain which lies at the heart mankind's lust for violence he swore to find both the cause and a cure despite himself jerry found himself getting drawn into the tale of dr kroll's father he said that's incredible that's an incredible story i've never even heard of this theory before What happened to his work?

It was not well received among his peers, that he did not live long enough to complete his research. The abuse my father endured at the labor camp, left him crippled and prone to illness. He died long before his time. Crowe plucked a glass bottle from the stacks of litter on his desk, humming to himself. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of dingy old coffee mugs.

We will now have a toast to my father. Crowle plucked a glass bottle from the stacks of litter on his desk, humming to himself. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of dingy old coffee mugs. We will now have a toast to my father. Dr. Herschel Weiss, who was a good man? Drink with me. Dr. Kroll thrust the coffee mug into Jerry's hand. Jerry wasn't a day.

He drank her by any means, but he felt obligated to lift the mug in memory of Dr. Weiss. He gulped a decent-sized swallow of the murky liquid inside and almost gagged. It was a very strong and heavily spiced rum, and it burned like battery acid down his throat. Gary winced and blew out a long, boozy. Hoof! Roth! What is it, 10.30 in the morning? Buh! Drink it all!

Kroll boomed. It is a momentous occasion. Today, we will realize my father's dream. Drink! He clinked the mug against Jerry's, and they both tilted back their mugs. Jerry's eyes teared up. He was already buzzing. Good Lord!

He croaked. Dr. Kroll smiled and nodded. See, good Lord indeed. I hope he is smiling down upon us today. So, uh... This cure is... How does this happen? The word slipped off his tongue like velvet.

Jerry was buzzing hard. Fuck. I shouldn't have finished it. I'm half crocked over here. The affliction is a prion disease. Kroll said. I believe infection occurs within the womb. Priyant disease affects the brain jailed,

and so, to fight them, the drug must be able to cross something called the blood-brain barrier. Antibodies are too large to penetrate these barriers. My father devoted himself to developing a drug with a very small molecular structure. Indeed, there already exists a number of such drugs in the world. Ibuprofen is a good example. So you're going to give me an Advil? Jerry slurred and he cackled out love.

No doubt about it. He was definitely three sheets to the wind now. It was hard to hold on to his thoughts. They wanted to puff up like party balloons and float off into the clouds. No, not a pill. It will be administered in as a guess, Kroll said. The drug does its work very quickly. Is this trial as a success?

You will be completely cured before you even arrive at your home. Nah, but nothing like that. We're done here. Jerry tried to stand up, only to discover he could no longer move his arms or legs. His entire body felt wispy and unsubstantial. I'm made out of clouds, he thought, and he giggled. It was a very floppy, fizzy, and jolly sort of thing to be made out of clouds.

It was... It will not be painful. A cytota, and that is all? What did you give me? Jerry drolled. He could hardly move a muscle. Not even a twitch of his finger. Jerry's mouth was dry and numb.

It was difficult to properly enunciate his words. You drugged me, O' frowned and waved a dismissive hand in Jerry's. general direction. I told you that you would not be harmed, and I have kept this promise. Cease is only a temporary inconvenience. A small sacrifice for something greater than yourself. You must remember that.

Pushing himself to his feet, Dr. Kroll rolled his chair around his desk and pulled a small metal tank from a different drawer. It looked like a portable oxygen cylinder. How much do you weigh? 80 kilos? More? Let me go. Jerry demanded.

You can't do this. It does not matter. Kroll said. He was fiddling with a regulator and barely even paid attention to the answer. I will estimate. It will be enough. Jerry blinked outlessly at Kroll as he came lumbering up with the canister in hand. He was very, very tired now.

He simply couldn't much. Muster the energy to cry out for help. No one would hear him anyway. Isn't that why Krull was lurking in an otherwise empty building? So no one would hear the screams. I'm gonna call a cops. You can't do this to me. You're doing this against my will.

Roll pressed the mask over the lower half of Jerry's face and snapped. And the atrocities of war? Are they not committed against the unwilling? This is an end to all suffering and tyranny. No one will ever again have a reason to fear their neighbor. Human kind will live in peace. A faintly medicinal odor invaded Jerry's nostrils. The gas had a murky, sour taste that made him want to wretch.

He groaned inside the mask. The last thing he saw before his vision faded out was Dr. Crowe, grinning down at him triumphantly. the madness of righteous obsession snapping and crackling behind his watery gray eyes. He whispered, Now, Gerald, now we will see. But his words were muffled and distant. Jerry tried to scream, but the world had fallen away from him on all sides, and his voice was lost in the void.

There was an indeterminate period of time, the sound of humming machinery was the oral backdrop to the darkness around him. But then it too fell away into the void. Jerry was alone in a vast womb of nothingness. Gerald, open your eyes. Jerry was staring at the ceiling. The hard wooden arm of the antique love seat was pressing painfully into the back of his neck. His legs were trailing off the side and onto the floor.

Both legs were fast asleep and his back muscles were screeching against the twisted position of his spine. Oh, God! Jerry moaned, and he struggled to sit up. What the fuck did you do to me? I have cured you! Dr. Krull shouted, and he clasped his hands together in savage glee. I ran a series of tests on you while you were unconscious. The disease is in a state of rapid remission.

You will make a full recovery. Jerry closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. The fuzzy padding around his thoughts made it feel like he was dreaming. What do you think you've done here exactly? Cured me of what? Getting mad at people? You're fucking crazy. This is crazy.

Indeed. Kroll said briskly. And he pulled a folding knife out of his hip body. He opened the blade and thrust the handle into Jerry's limp, sweating hand. I've taken you hostage, you say? I have drugged you and have done God knows what, value ver helpless. I'm a madman and a fiend, holding you against your will. Injure me with the knife and run for your freedom.

What? Jerry held the knife away from him like it was a dead fish, holding it made him feel strangely uncomfortable. No, I'm not gonna do that. Crowl's hand whizzed out in a blur and Jerry's head rocked back. He cried out, hand flying up to press against his reddening cheek. I'm assaulting you. Defend yourself. A sudden adrenaline rush cut through the fog in his brain, and the message it carried wasn't fight.

It was run away. Jerry dropped the knife and tried to lunge for the door on legs that were still mostly dead meat. He fell gracelessly to the floor and started crawling on his stomach, yipping and keening like an animal in a state of blowing panic. Kroll swooped down on him and yanked him to his feet. Jerry tried to twist out of Kroll's grasp, but his grip was like iron. The doctor beamed down as to Jerry's terrified face.

You see now, you are cured. You cannot bring yourself to strike me in return? No, you would do anything to avoid physical confrontation, as nature has always intended for us. You no longer have the desire or even the ability to commit an act of violence. He brave Jerry across the room and threw a different door. This new door was considerably larger. It had been converted into a sleek and functional laboratory. Millions of dollars of medical equipment gleamed mellowly in a fluorescent light.

Jerry deeped around him in disbelief. Crull's voice dropped into a husky whisper. He breathed. Even now, a network of my colleagues and benefactors are releasing the cure, hundreds of them, from around the globe. They will introduce the drug into the water supply and the very air around us. Time is of the essence, Gerald. There are many powerful men who furt oppose us.

Powers both taken and held to acts of aggression. If they cannot achieve their goals of his violence, save they'll be vented powerless. Crowe released his hold on Jerry and gently steered him to the exit. Go now. You can leave the rest of your days as a man who is truly free. Jerry lurched unsteadily down the dim corridor and dialed 911 with clumsy fingers. He heard two muted clicks.

And then a busy signal was blading away in his ear, chilled on his spine. How many calls were they getting to have the lines jammed up like that? The lobby was still silent and empty. Jerry paused with his hand on the entrance door. He was abruptly seized by an entirely new and different feeling, a tense anxiety that made his heartbeat a little faster in his chest. There was danger out there, and ill-defined an all-encompassing danger.

Jerry didn't want to go out there into the world of blind corners and open spaces. He wanted to hide in a burrow. Fuck! Jerry hissed and forced himself to step outside. He squinted around him in the bright sunlight, throwing darting looks in all directions while he shambled as quickly as possible to his car. As he unlocked his door, a yellow jacket came buzzing. up and hovered in front of his face.

Jerry stood stock still and breathed out slowly. Hi, little guy. He said softly. Don't come at me, okay? Don't. Yellow jackets buzzing, abruptly shifted into a higher pitch and it stung him just below his eye. Gary shrieked and waved his hands in front of his face. It stung him again, and Jerry stumbled around.

hysterical circle on the street screeching. Get off me! Get off me! He whipped his head back and forth, sobbing helplessly, while the insects stabbed him repeatedly in the cheek and nose. Jerry couldn't bring himself to crush his tiny tormentor with a quick slap. The thought didn't even cross his mind. He brushed at the tenacious thing with trembling fingers begging for it to stop,

and the yellow jacket grabbed onto his ring finger with homicidal rage. Jerry shook his hand in the air until it lost its hold on his fingertip, then whirled, and ran for the car with a murderous insect hot on his heels. Jerry watched in horror as it repeatedly slammed itself off the car windows, beating itself to death against the glass as it tried its best to break in and finish the job. It quickly succumbed to its injuries end, after one last kamikaze dive bomb against the driver's side window. The yellow jacket fell to the ground. Jerry cautiously swung the door open a few inches and had a close look at his aggressor. It was an ordinary-looking yellow jacket, small and weak and frail. He was terrified of the awful thing, even though it was clearly dead.

He closed the door and examined his face in the rear-view mirror. There was a swollen mass of flesh beneath his eye and his nose was lumpy and tender. You will not be harmed." Jerry sniffled his reflection. Do to me, you creature, he tried to call 911 again. The line was still busy. There were sirens in the distance, multiple sirens and he was pretty sure he could hear the faint

but unmistakable whirl of a helicopter in flight. As he sat there behind the wheel with his phone to his ear, a bird landed on the hood of his car. It stared at him with bright hostility. Jerry felt a cold sweat pop out on his brow. Shoo! Go away! The bird tapped on the glass with its beak and blasted a surprisingly large glop of runny white shit onto his hood.

It squawked at him through the windshield, tapped on the glass one last time, then took flight in a blast of fluttering wings. was left contemplating the contemptuous splotch of bird shit left behind. His hands shaking on the steering wheel. You fucked up, man. I don't know what the hell's going on, but you fucked... There's a sudden spray of feathers beside his head as a bird slammed off the driver's side window. Jerry flinched with a stifled yelp.

He started the engine and peeled away from the curb and a streak of rubber. Home. He had to get home. home to his borough where he would be safe. The world around him had become a dangerous place. Somehow the lesser creatures, the things that buzzed through the air and creep through the grass, somehow they could sense he was no longer capable of defending himself. Jerry was officially no longer at the top of the food chain.

He'd plummeted straight to the bottom. The sirens were troubling. Kroll had spoken of a web of conspirators, all of them releasing the chemical at once all around the world. Kroll and his people didn't anticipate the level of sheer chaos that was about to ensue, and it was far too late to take it back. Police car rocketed past heading the opposite direction with four more cruisers following close behind me.

Jerry watched them recede in the rearview mirror, and he wondered if any cops would be able to drive their guns from their holsters. came screeching up to their destination. He wondered if they'd be able to fend off an angry bee, or if the burly Kevlar-vested men would run screaming to the safety of their vehicles. It was... Oh, fuck me! Jerry groaned.

The cats. Both of his cats were inside the house when he left that morning, with the same mindless fury as to be when he got home. If you couldn't even take on a tiny bug, with a stinger. How in God's name was he going to deal with two fully crone housecats? Yeah. You fucked up, Doc. You fucked up real good. Their police car zoom passed with its lights flashing and sirens blaring. Dr. Crowe's wonder drug was doing its job very efficiently.

Jerry walked the speedometer another ten over the limit, embraced himself for his homecoming in the car to the door. with his face down and his blood roaring in his veins. He had his shirt pulled over his hat to act as a protective barrier. Even so, Jerry felt a sharp pinching pain on the back of his neck as he unlocked the door. He scrambled inside and gently wiped at the attacker with tears in his eyes. It was a fly. Jerry cupped it in his hands and opened the door long enough to throw it outside.

He touched the bite gingerly and observed a tiny spot. of blood on his fingertip. You fucking bastard! Jerry spat. There was no venom in his words. Only despair. He grabbed two spring jackets off the coat rack and tiptoed into the kitchen. Every fiber in his being was screaming danger, danger, danger, full volume.

Jerry's knees were shaking so hard he could barely walk straight. All he wanted to do was crawl into the cupboard beneath the sink and hide in the Darkness. Jerry took a deep breath and called out. Puffin? Lily? He crept through the kitchen into the living room, holding the jackets out in front of him like a flimsy shield.

Sweat quickly soaked through his shirt, sticking it to his back. He stopped beside the couch and squinted in the comparative gloom, searching for the familiar silhouettes of fat, rounded haunches and pointy little ears. Come on, girls! "'Where are you?' "'Are you okay? Are you—' Jerry trailed off in mid-sentence.

His words turned into dust in his mouth. Puffin was sitting in front of the entrance to the hallway, staring at him with unblinking malevolence. She growled at him, her tail lashing around restlessly behind her. Jerry had never heard Puffin growl before. The sound made him want to collapse on the spot. He tensed himself to run for his life. Puffy, please, honey, don't do that.

Don't growl at Daddy. Puffin stood up and moved closer, creeping low to the ground with her ears back. Jerry thrust the coats out with stiff arms and gasped. No, kitty! Don't do that, okay? Don't hurt me! Puffin stopped her advance and cast a quick glance over at the couch. Jerry had time to think,

Oh shit, Lily, before an explosion of teeth and claws launched itself onto his ankle from beneath the couch. He screamed and backpedaled trying to shake his cat off his leg while he fanned at it weakly with one of the coats. Puffin reared back and pounced with a jungle cat, yowl, launching herself straight for his face. Jerry ducked behind his jacket shield and puffin slammed into it at full four. Her claws, scrabbling to rip his face to shreds. through the light fabric. He wrapped her up like a hissing, fangs snapping, cat cigar and limped for the front door, trying to hold her away from his body as he draught Lily along behind him.

Stop it! You bad little shits, fucking stop that! Jerry was forced the cradle puffing close as he opened the door, and she immediately sank her fangs into a shoulder. He cried out and tried to throw her onto the porch, but the ferocious little beast held on fast, her teeth, and only the jacket that had been trapping her legs went out the door. Her powerful hind legs now free from their prison.

They immediately went to town on his chest and stomach with a blur of rapid-fire rabbit kicks. Jerry sobbed to the heavens. He fell into the porch on his hands and knees, weeping hysterically, he released Jerry's massacated shin, just sprang onto his unprotected back. Shreds of bloody cloth floated into the air to be able. carried away by the gentle afternoon breeze. Don't kill me!

Don't kill me! Jerry wept, and he fled back into the house, burdened by a 20-pound carpet of stabbing needles and trailing droplets of blood behind him. He cracked to the living room and down the hallway, bouncing off the walls and crying for mercy. Puffin had sunk her claws into either cheek and was gnawing the tip of his nose

while Lily was busy on the other side of his head. flying away pieces of scalp and kicking deep gouges between Jerry's shoulder blades. Puffin! He blubbered, and Jerry's former pet answered his plea by grabbing under his lower lip and shaking her triangular head like a pit bull. He blundered into the bathroom by pure blind accident and fell into the shower. Jerry scrambled to turn on the water. The shower had stuttered to life erupting in a blast of cold water that sent the cats hissing and running out the door. Jerry heaved himself out of the tub and slammed the door closed.

A moment later, I saw the blow made a shudder in its frame, followed by a violent storm of furious clawing. The cats continued their assault on the bathroom door for a very long time. Jerry eventually sat down on the floor in the opposite corner of the room and listened to their scratching and growling with a blank look in his eyes. Dr. Kroll was correct in his belief that human aggression was a blight on the world. But what he didn't take into account was a role of plays in self-preservation. When a living creature is defenseless, it becomes prey for another creature.

That is the way of the natural world. Weakness is never a virtue in a food chain. Despite the size of our brains, a human being without a means of defense is nothing more than a walking vague of meat. And they know, jury told the door, Don't you girls? You know. You can sense it. You can smell it on me.

Eventually the cat stopped to take a breather. Gary slipped into an exhausted dough as well sitting up against the wall. His legs splayed out in front of him. He dreamed he was running from a monstrous creature in a land of eternal darkness. Running and running and never quite getting away. The monster was a cat, but it was also Dr. Kroll, a leering, gibbering cat man with madness dancing in his eyes. When it caught him, it pinned him to the ground and cackled. You will not be armed.

You will not be harmed. Jerry stared out the bathroom window and watched civilization fall into ruin. It was mass panic in the streets, fires and accident. and roads that were jammed with a solid snake of unmoving traffic. He couldn't see all this from his window, but he knew that it was happening. The era of mankind had come to its abrupt and brutal conclusion, and in the end, who was to blame? We are, Gary said to himself, we did this with bullets, bombs, and nuclear fire. We should have never been allowed to climb to the top.

If it weren't for some brain disease, we'd still be swinging in the trees and the planet wouldn't be completely fucked. If there was time, humanity could maybe figure out a way to deal with nature's murderous vengeance. But the natural world of faying and claw does not wait for the weak and hopeless. It was too late. The process was irreversible. Gary watched as a young woman was chased down by a flock of birds.

They pecked her and beat her with their wings until she tripped and fell, screaming for help. And they covered her in a blanket of sharp beaks. She crawled around for a while in someone's front yard crying and struggling to break free. And then she was still. He turned away from the window and regarded his medicine cabinet instead. There were pills in there that, if swallowed in sufficient quantities, could end his suffering for good. What choice did he have? He could be murdered by cats, slowly starved to death,

or swallow a bunch of pills and die a relatively easy death. There would be a decree of suffering, but it would be nothing compared to what was waiting for him outside. Puffin and Lily were still going at the door full throttle, never tiring. They wouldn't rest until they could pounce on the source of the intolerable weakness and tear it apart. The sun was setting over the horizon, casting the bathroom in hues of crimson and gold. In the fading light, Jerry could see the fires raging in the distance. Fires with no one left to stop them.

Fires that would rage unchecked until the entire city was a pile of gritty ashes. Jerry opened the medicine cabinet. He started shaking a mix of pills into the palm of his hand. Maybe the next ones will get it right. He said to his reflection, and he started swallowing pills. A gray squirrel watched him do this from its vantage point in a tree outside the window. It sat there and looked on with keen interest as Jerry died. And when it was over, the squirrel chittered in triumph.

Long after Jerry finally stopped twitching and convulsing, two cats came strolling outside through the open front door, entwining tails as they stalked the thickening dusk for new victims. The squirrel climbed down from the tree and followed the cats at a safe distance, its eyes shining with bloodlust. They joined the swooping bats and prowling raccoons in their search for new prey, along with countless dogs and foxes, badgers, spiders, rats, snakes, and ten million tons of scurrying ants.

The meeks swarmed into the twilight to reclaim the world. And when the sun rose the next morning, its golden rays illuminated a brand. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram, Email us. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta Wikia.com.

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