It began with a whisper, a mere hushed voice in the night, something one could have reasoned to have been a creek in the floorboards. Maybe an animal taking a step, perhaps. Garfield, Jon reasoned it could've been.

If only it had been so simple.

Jon awoke in a sweat, throwing the blanket off of himself, unsure the whole time of why he was so panicked. He looked around his room and took a breath. "What the hell…?" he said aloud, calming down and shaking his head. Standing up, he made his way into the bathroom to get ready for the day. A moment later, as he reached to grab his razor, he realized that it was not where he normally left it. Strange, he thought. Paying it no further attention, he resumed with his daily routine. Upon exiting the bathroom, he immediately noticed how his dresser was on the other side of the room. He shook his head and widened his eyes.

"W-what?"

Perhaps he was simply confused. It had always been there, that basic brown container of garments.

If only Jon understood.

The rather mediocre man of an entirely average demeanor sighed as he adjusted his second favorite tie. Unable to find his blue and most prized tie, he chose to settle instead for this red one. His mind wandered to the strange occurrences of the morning. It was almost as if someone had rearranged his belongings. Impossible, he reasoned. Liz was away on a vacation with her family, and Odie had tagged along at Liz's insistence, wanting to show the dog off to her own family. For now, it was just him. And Garfield. How could this have happened? He resolved to better organize his belongings when he returned from work.

Work.

Jon sighed again. Monday's were the worst. Garfield always seemed to be more agitated as well, for whatever reason. It was almost as if they were an omen of negative emotion. They always held such a sense of foreboding, Jon contemplated. Like when they arrive, the worst is destined to come. The day when you were faced with the worst the week had to offer. For the average man that Jon was, the day of reckoning.

How right he was.

Reaching for his nightstand that was for some reason on the opposite side of the bed as Jon remembered, he checked his phone for the time. He wouldn't want to be late, after all. He glanced to the time, 8:23 am. Not bad, he thought. As his eyes wandered slightly below the numerals though, those same eyes widened considerably. 'What?' He blinked. He blinked again. He then pressed the power button of the phone to deactivate it. Furrowing his brows in thought, he pressed the button again.

8:24 am.

3/21/10

Saturday

"What the fuck?!" he uttered in absolute confusion. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, one side of him said. He desperately began recalling what he had done the past weekend, which was evidently the current weekend, to no avail. He swore it was Monday, and yet, the device in his hand was telling him otherwise. It was simply impossible. Perhaps his phone was just simply wrong. Smoothly sliding the gadget into his pocket, he dragged himself over to his desk. Taking a seat perpendicular to where he would originally sit, the pet owner pressed the power key on his laptop. Desperately wishing that the computer would boot up more quickly, he briefly entertained the idea of investing in another laptop entirely. No, though, he had to save up money for an engagement ring for Liz, he reasoned. Eventually however, a familiar desktop appeared before him. Glancing to the bottom right corner, he saw the unmistakable truth of the matter.

It was, in fact, Saturday.

He slid back in his plush leather office chair, intensely contemplating the revelation. It was undeniable now. It was indeed Saturday. Jon sighed softly. A shame then that he had awakened so early in the day. Tradition had it set so that he would have had at least another several hours of peaceful rest. Now, however, his early rise had put an end to that. A shame, truly. Though it would be best to make the best of the situation, he reasoned. Briskly standing up from the office chair. Changing into his more casual attire, he scratched his chin and then exited his bedroom. What would he do with his free time he wondered?

A distinctive yawn made itself quite aware immediately upon exiting his dwelling. Springing off the kitchen counter, Jon's most precious cat had made himself known as he would typically do. Though, Jon could've sworn there was more of an accusatory glare in his feline eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jon."

It was almost as if he heard the orange cat speak to him. Though he had also heard soft meowing noises as the voice penetrated his mind. A shame then that he disregarded it. "Are you hungry, Garfield?" he asked the cat with a smile as he usually would.

A mad grin stretched from side to side upon the now eldritch cat's expression.

"Insatiably, Jon."

Jon was not only seeing shit, but now apparently also hearing shit too. He smiled rather awkwardly as he saw the cat meow with fangs larger than he could've ever remembered. He shook his head from side to side, as if attempting to purge some kind of negative thoughts. Opening the refrigerator, he was shocked to see that it was full of lasagna. It wasn't unusual to see lasagna in the household's refrigerator, but what in the hell happened to everything else? All of the shelves were filled with the meat, cheese and pasta that created Garfield's favorite dish.

He closed the refrigerator.

Opening it again, he saw milk, a couple of vegetables and fruits, sauces, lunchmeat, and other basic necessities that would be in an average household as well of course, the leftover lasagna from the night before. He sighed in relief. It seemed he actually wasn't going crazy after all. Pulling out the lasagna and fetching a plate to place it on, he turned around. Garfield was already on the counter, despite never making a noticeable sound.

"Hurry, I am famished, Jon," the cat spoke to him as he stretched his back in the way a feline would. Jon took note of the movements of the cat. It was impossible to truly discern what was happening, at least in his own mind. He must've been going crazy. It was the only possible explanation. As the cat talking to him was obviously unexplainable. He sat the lasagna on the counter, for it to be devoured in nearly an instant. It was almost as if time had skipped, actually. Jon turned around and the lasagna was simply gone, the plate being wiped clean, as if the lasagna was never there. Jon looked onward, puzzled at the development that unfolded before him.

Locking eyes with the tangerine colored creature, Jon awkwardly began, "D-did you want more lasagna, Garfield?" He had asked with an even more pathetic tone than he would typically. The bizarre events unfolding before him had truly puzzled Jon. What in the flying fuck was happening? He hoped that it would end soon, whatever this was.

"This is only the beginning, Jon." the cat laughed. "But yes, fetch me more lasagna, human."

Jon paused. This must've been a dream, maybe a nightmare he reasoned. He'd just give the cat his desired food and perhaps return to his room. Simple. Foolproof. Garfield reveled in the simple thoughts Jon had, of course. Jon turned to the refrigerator and opened it, revealing Odie's decapitated head on top of a large plate of steaming, fresh lasagna.

Jon had lost balance then, and fell on the kitchen tiles, his eyes locked to the dog's head which adorned the scrumptious pile of meat, cheese, and pasta. It was at this point Garfield decided to make his move.

Effortlessly leaping just behind Jon, the orange cat grinned an infamous cheshire grin before standing on his hind paws. Lifting his chin as well as clapping his paws at Jon, he smiled deviously. "I trust you understand, Jon," Garfield spoke ominously.

Jonathan Arbuckle didn't know what to think. Of course, not many people would be able to cope with a situation quite like this. Here was Garfield. His cat. Speaking to him. Not only was Garfield speaking to him, but he was standing unnaturally, facing him. And, if it couldn't get more bizarre, today was Saturday and not Monday. Now, even worse, within the refrigerator lied the severed head of Odie, his dog.

It appeared that he wasn't dead long. Blood seeped through. In fact, it was rather fresh. Jon could practically feel the gaze of Odie upon him as he sat there mortified. This was horrible in every way. Who did this?! Who...

As Jon sat there contemplating the horror of his situation, maniacal laughing pierced the silence of his thoughts. Slowing turning around, he saw the atmosphere around him darken immensely. As he looked out the window, he saw the sun was already setting. And it was setting fast. He stared for several seconds, and he realized that yes, in just a couple minutes the sun faded from high above the sky to being invisible. In just a matter of minutes. That again, was impossible and yet, it was happening. He rotated his body on the floor further, and what he saw horrified him even more.

Looming behind him was a grin most unnatural. Blood dripped down the menacing figure's expression. This thing's… fur was orange, yes, but a hint of red permeated it's filthy fur. Teeth that were far longer and far sharper than any housecat should have glistened in the little amount of light that was now in the room. Jon felt as if he was gazing into the void as he looked into this creature's demonic eyes.

Garfield sat there on his stomach, grinning, before suddenly crimson tendrils flew out from underneath himself. Chaos quickly ensued. A pillar supporting the house was destroyed, as was a portion of the roof which exposed the night sky above them. Garfield then stood up once again, the tentacles crashing throughout the household. As he marched forward as no cat should, a blood red tendril grabbed the decapitated head that belonged to Odie and threw it at Jon's feet.

"I hoped that it wouldn't come to this, Jon."

Jon screamed and quickly scurried backwards, away from the beast in front of him. "W-what the fuck?!" His back was against a wall now, and he was face to face with the aberration itself. As the cat, if it could be called that, marched forward, Jon saw the glimmer of the moonlight reflect off of Odie's dead eyes. Was this going to be what became of him when Garfield reached him?

"All I wanted was for you to understand Jon."

Jon trembled in fear, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"But I realized…" the demonic voice echoed throughout the now devastated household. "You can't understand unless I show you," Garfield now stood roughly 10 feet away from Jon, tentacles still whipping around wildly, destroying everything around the both of them. "Isn't that right, Jon?"

Jon could barely understand the words that left the monster's decrepit mouth. He just wanted this nightmare to end. He didn't want to know what Garfield had to show him. This was getting worse and worse. At first there were some inconsistencies throughout the day, but now, this was worse. Much much worse.

Suddenly however, all of the tentacles stopped their movements and retracted themselves into Garfield's stomach in a way that couldn't be explained. Then, the monstrosity pointed what would be it's index finger to ground between him and Jon. And after a second, Garfield's mouth began to open up unnaturally, his bloodied jaw extending far greater than any animal should ever. Crimson tentacles then rushed out of the beast's mouth and began to savagely beat the ground right in front of Jon, ripping it up piece by piece. The floor began to sink in on itself. A hole appeared that spanned a width of 5 feet in diameter, with the tentacles rushing out of Garfield's mouth and encircling the sinkhole. Before long, the space between Jon and Garfield had become filled with the blood colored tendrils.

"This is the only way, Jon."

And then, much to Jon's utter dismay, he felt a slimy sensation on his leg. A tentacle had gripped Jon, and he could feel the pull. He was being dragged inside the hole!

"What are you d-doing?!"

The pull wasn't that powerful yet, but perhaps that only added to the terror. Before long though, the grasping sensation intensified, and Jon was looked up at Garfield, tears falling from his face as the world around him ended.

"Where are you taking me?!"

Jon closed and opened his eyes. Before him, he saw Garfield as he typically appeared. He looked amused, as creepy as that was. Though, as a tentacle tugged on his leg again, and he looked above him and saw that the roof was still destroyed. Doom was still coming for him. The tendril gripped him harder and pulled him deeper. He was about to fall in completely. He looked up as he was pulled under, and all he saw was Garfield up above him, grinning madly once again.

"I'm sorry, Jon."