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A dirty brown cat was skulking around an alley. He would have described his walk as more of an amble rather than a skulk, but it was really somewhere in-between. A skamble, perhaps. His name was Hobo.
Hobo skambled over to the gap in the fence—now widened and freed of all its splinters since the new human had moved into the house. They always set out cat food, and toys, and never chased the cats away, despite not having any cats of their own. Hobo smelled the food often while he walked past, but he'd never been able to get any—the human was kindhearted, but the other cats were not. They bullied him for his ragged appearance and smell, and chased him away if he tried to get any food. Today all his usual dumpsters had been closed and locked, and he was hungry. He peeked through the gap in the fence. There was definitely a strong smell of food, and no other cats in sight. He trotted excitedly into the yard, crooked tail swishing high.
As he drew closer to the food bowl, he realized why nobody else was in the yard. The food smelled distinctly of rotten fish and tires, and seemed to be slimier than the usual kibble. Hobo didn't mind; he ate rotten fish all the time. It was only as he bent his head to eat that he noticed that he was not, in fact, alone.
He jumped back, fur on end. What he'd taken for the shadow of the nearby deck was instead another cat, one with black, oily-looking fur. When it turned its face to look at Hobo, he saw that instead of a normal cat face it had nothing but a pit full of rows and rows of teeth.
Hobo stood still, fur on end, waiting for the other cat to move or speak. It didn't. It just crouched there, tail limp, looking at him—though it didn't appear to have eyes. After a dozen long seconds, Hobo sat down. “Hey buddy,” he said, forcing a casual tone, “mind if I get a bite to eat?”
The other cat didn't answer. Well, it wasn't attacking him, or hissing, or growling. Hobo experimentally took a bite of food. It was rancid-tasting, but not nauseatingly so. The other cat didn't move, so Hobo kept eating.
After he'd eaten his fill (his stomach felt a bit weird now, but nothing he couldn't handle), Hobo sat back, a few feet away, watching the other cat. “You're a scary-looking son-of-a-dog, you know that?” he asked conversationally. The other cat tilted its head slightly. “...Daughter-of-a-dog?” Hobo tried. The cat's head didn't move. “Well, child-of-a-dog, anyway,” he said. The strange cat's head un-tilted.
“So, come here often? I've never seen you around these parts.” The other cat continued to do what Hobo assumed was stare. “Maybe you're new. There's always a full bowl of food sitting here, and the human doesn't chase you away. Can't imagine you'd have a problem with the other cats, with a chomper like that!” The strange cat's teeth rotated slightly, counter-clockwise.
“Ah, maybe you're just not one for crowds. I'm a bit of a loner myself. Though that gets a bit lonely, to tell the truth...” Hobo settled on the slab of stone, tucking his paws under his chest. “Hey, you don't mind me talking at you, do you?” The strange cat didn't move. “Ah, good...say, do you have a name?” The black cat stayed where it was. “Hm. Not quite sure you can talk, really...mind if I call you...” Hobo pondered. “Glunkus?” The cat's teeth rotated, this time clockwise. “Glad to hear it. It suits you. Bit odd, but friendly enough.”
Glunkus moved forward, and with a sound like a far-off woodchipper, started eating. They ate more than it seemed like their small body could hold, but the bowl seemed endless. Finally, having made only a small dent in the slimy food, Glunkus sat back, and tucked their paws under their chest as well.
Hobo sighed contentedly. The rock he was sitting on was warm from the sun, and felt nice on this cool day. “'S not often that I get to relax around other cats,” he mumbled. “You are a cat, aren't you?”
“Eh, doesn't matter much either way. I never met a cat who liked me anyway...besides me mom, of course. And she left. Just wandered off one day and never came back, left me and my litter to fend for ourselves. Never found her. Never heard what happened. Maybe she just...forgot about us. Anyway, we all split up after that...wasn't enough food in one place for all of us. I meet some of 'em around every so often...but they don't want much to do with me either...don't want me thinking I can mooch on them, eat their food...it's alright, I've got enough. Never will understand why humans don't like you eating out of their trash, though...they don't eat nothing out of there...”
“You know, Glunkus, you're a good listener. Anyone ever told you that?” The rock really held quite a bit of heat, and Hobo was getting sleepy. He blinked slowly.
Glunkus's teeth were moving slowly, each row going in a different direction. It made a sound something like a very quiet and rather rusty garbage disposal. Hobo thought it might be a purr, and he drifted off to sleep purring faintly himself.