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I wake up to the sound of a car alarm blaring outside. Ugh, I was not finished sleeping. This bed is too damn soft and I am too damn warm to even consider moving. Alas, I blink a few times and open my eyes fully to take in my surroundings.
Where the hell am I?
I crane my neck and survey the room. I’ve been here before, I know that much. Something is off though, I’m just not sure what.
I look down and see that I am laying on some sort of cushion, but I am close to the floor. Everything in the room, all of the furniture, looks oversized and tall. I suddenly feel like Alice when she drank the potion.
I pause for a moment. Suddenly I feel off too, not just the room. I stand up and stretch. Wait, what the fuck.
I look down at my feet, but they aren’t feet. They’re paws. Little gray paws. Okay, what the hell is going on. I turn around and realize I had been sleeping in a small bed, some kind of pet bed. No, this isn’t right.
I see something move in the corner of my eye and it startles me. But as suddenly as it came, it’s gone. I then see it again, but before I can react, it’s gone again. Shit, there it is again. This time I catch it, hell yeah. I look down at my… paws… and realize I caught my own fucking tail. Oh yeah, I guess I have a tail now. Makes sense. Well, nothing does actually.
I have pretty much gathered at this point that I am a cat, and a look in the reflection of the tall window next to me confirms that. This is trippy. I’m normally a dog guy, but I guess I’m kind of cute. I recognize my new face, but I can’t quite figure out why. The view outside doesn’t give me any clues. All I can really see are trees.
I turn towards the rest of the room. Okay, where am I? Well, clearly in a dream, but let’s see where this goes. It feels strange to walk on four legs, albeit a little cool. I pick up speed until I’m running. Holy shit, I’m fucking fast. I slide on the hardwood floor and crash into a couch. Ow.
I decide to jump onto the couch to see what’s up there, maybe it will give me some clues. I crouch down slightly so that I can gain some momentum in my jump and… holy. fucking. shit. Suddenly I’m what I imagine is about 6 feet in the air, legs flailing around, before I plummet onto the couch in a thud. I guess I didn’t really need that wind up. I can jump with pretty much no effort. Noted.
Draped on the end of the sofa is a worn leather jacket. I wince, not needing to move any closer to get a whiff of the cigarette smell emanating from the garment. Okay, well I guess that, along with the fact that I’m in a house, confirms I have an owner. That’s fucking weird, but okay.
I jump off the couch and turn the corner to what looks like a small office. There’s a desk with books, papers and notebooks scattered everywhere. The walls are covered in artwork and wait— I recognize some things. There are several framed records, with plaques that say “Certified Platinum”. I read off the various labels. The Black Parade. Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. My Chemical Romance.
That’s my band! I’m in a band. I’m not a fucking cat. Well, not until now at least. I turn around and find shelf after shelf of comic books and it finally clicks. I’m in Gerard’s house. Am I… his cat? What’s his cat’s name? I can’t even remember. Shit friend I guess…
I take another survey of the room and notice a guitar propped up on a stand in the corner. God, I’d love to pick that up and play right now. I look down at my paws in disappointment.
I suddenly hear footsteps in another room. Well, shit, this should be interesting. It’s been a while since I’ve been in Gerard’s house but I kind of remember the layout. I hear the sound of a microwave beep and scamper towards the kitchen. I look up to see Gerard’s tall figure looming next to the kitchen island. He’s always been taller than me but damn, he’s really fucking tall right now. “Gee! It’s Frank!”
Gerard looks down in my direction. “Oh hi, Mitch!”
Ah, that’s it. I’m Mitch. Well, I’m still Frank. Gerard bends down and scratches my head. I guess that’s kind of nice, he does that on stage sometimes. “Gee, it’s me. Frank. Can you hear me?” Something tells me I’m not speaking English right now but fuck it, worth a try.
“Aren’t you chatty today?” Gerard cooed.
Okay, I guess I’m meowing. Fuck, that’s not helpful. Whatever it is that Gerard just cooked smells really fucking good though and now that I think about it, I’m starving. I jump up on the counter with my newfound abilities. I spot it, leftover tacos. I’m vegetarian but I guess cats aren’t, so fuck it. Within seconds, I am being picked up in the air and plopped on the floor.
Gerard frowns at me. “No cats on the counter, Mitchie.” You can’t tell me what to do motherfucker. I nip at Gerard’s ankle which leads to another scolding. Pffft, I’ll just jump on the counter when you’re not in the room. I side eye him and charge back into the living room.
Running is fun as fuck. I’m on the couch. Floor. Chair. Table. Floor. Couch. Wait are these zoomies? I feel like I’m on stage. At least this is familiar…
Gerard enters the living room laughing at me and taking a video on his phone. Oh, you want a show? I’ll give you one. I jump on one of the shelves next to the TV. There are all sorts of knick knacks, little figurines and whatnot. I stare directly into Gerard’s eyes and knock them off one. by. one.
“Mitch, no!” Gerard shouts, diving in a poor attempt to catch the items that are already on the floor. I smile smugly. Well, I have no idea what kind of face I made because I’m pretty sure cats can’t smile. “What has gotten into you today? Do you want attention?”
Wait, so I can basically go apeshit and Gerard still won’t be mad at me. I’m liking this so far. Gerard picks me up, sits down on the couch, and plops me in his lap. This is new, kind of. I’ve sat on his lap before but he’s a fucking giant right now and his lap is comfy as hell.
Gerard flips on the TV and settles on a fucking soap opera. You’ve gotta be kidding me. When I’m Frank again, well, when I have my body back, I’m making fun of him for that. Speaking of, where the fuck is my actual body? Is Mitch in it? That’s concerning but that’s a problem for future Frank.
At this point, Gerard is petting me all over and wow, this is nice. I especially am enjoying the chin rubs. I start to wonder if the human me would like that. Shit is going to get weird when I have my body back. I settle in to get comfortable. I was woken up earlier by the car alarm so some extra sleep wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I’ll even wake up from this dream finally.
I close my eyes and suddenly I’m vibrating. Uh, what? I blink my eyes open slowly and make eye contact with Gerard who is looking down at me affectionately. Am I… purring? I mean, this feels really nice and Gerard seems to like that I’m doing it so I’ll roll with it.
“Good boy.” coos Gerard, kissing me on the head.
Oh.
Well shit, I liked that. Things are DEFINITELY going to get weird when I’m human Frank again.
I shut my eyes again and feel myself drift off to sleep. Eventually I’m awoken suddenly by Gerard moving me off his lap. What the hell, man?
“Be right back, Mitchie. I forgot I was supposed to call Frank.”
I glance up at the clock and remember he was supposed to call me an hour ago. You asshole. Well, you could just talk to me right now but I don’t know how to tell you that. Gerard has his phone up to his ear and it rings several times with no answer. He pouts.
Okay, well Mitch isn’t answering the phone I guess. Makes sense, he doesn’t know what a phone is. Or how to talk. Or what to even do with my body. It suddenly occurs to me that Mitch could be over at my house having the zoomies in a human body. Now, I do enjoy being a little wild on stage, but I can just imagine Mitch body slamming into my furniture in my human body. It’s gonna be trashed over there. Oh god.
“Dinner time!” Gerard announces. Finally, some fucking food. I trot into the kitchen. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. I walk up to a plate on the floor that just has a blob of what smells like mushy fish on it. It smells good to me I guess, being a cat and all, but the sight of it makes me gag. I decide I am not eating that and make a mental decision to try and raid the cabinets tonight for something better. Gerard will get over it. He does seem concerned that I refuse to eat but he lets it go, thinking I might just have a stomach ache. Sure, that works.
I decide to curl up on the pet bed near the window so I can think about what to do next. I have fallen asleep now at least once in my dream and I’m still a cat so I’m starting to get concerned. I guess I’ll just keep trying to sleep as much as I can. I think cats like to sleep anyway.
——
I wake up once more, as a cat. I think it’s been a few weeks now, but I’ve completely lost track of time. This is starting to get old, and honestly, scary. Is this not a dream? Is this my new reality? That can’t be.
I’m starting to hear Gerard get concerned as well. He’s been on the phone with Mikey and Ray several times. Apparently, they called the police over to my house to check on me and found me— well, Mitch, on the floor licking my hands and feet and also malnourished. I guess my body has been brought to the hospital and they’re running tests on me. God, I’d love to be a fly on the wall in that fucking room and see what Mitch is up to. Shit, actually no. I do NOT want to be a fucking fly. Being a cat is weird enough.
I’ve gotten used to using the litter box at this point. That is not a sentence that I imagined I would ever say. But it’s pretty fucking funny because Gerard has to clean up my shit. What a fool. However, I’m still having a hard time eating that damn cat food. It doesn’t even taste bad, I guess my taste buds are that of a cat, but god— it grosses me out to no end. I usually end up vomiting it up. On the carpet, you know, for fun.
At some point, I overhear Gerard on the phone with what seems to be a vet discussing my eating habits. If I don’t get better in a day or two, he’s going to bring me to the vet’s office. HELL NO. I have been there before with past pets of mine and there is no way I am getting a thermometer stuck up my ass. At the next meal, I force myself to eat every last bite. I still vomit a little, but this time I do it under the couch. He’ll never know. God knows he doesn’t clean under there. Gerard seems pleased at my sudden change in behavior and he doesn’t take me to the vet.
——
Alright, I think it’s now been almost two months and I’m still a fucking cat. I miss human food, which Gerard NEVER lets me eat, what a prick. I miss playing guitar too. I just want to be Frank The Human again. I decide I’m going to have to do something about this.
I figure the closest thing I can relate this to is Freaky Friday. The problem is, I’m stuck in this damn prison and have no way of finding my human body. I’m going to have to convince Gerard that I’m Frank and maybe he can help me. I’ve already been talking to him nonstop, but clearly everything I say is just coming out as meows so that’s useless. I’m going to have to prove it with actions.
The guitar.
Gerard is sitting in his office and I think he’s drawing me. This is good because it means I have his attention. I walk over to the guitar and paw at it. He just laughs, the bastard. Okay, let’s try again. This time I do my best to strum the strings with my stupid fucking paws. It kind of works so I look up to Gerard for his reaction.
You’ve got to be kidding me. His phone is out and he’s giggling behind it. Whatever, at least he’s watching. I glance around and find a guitar pick on the floor. I pick it up in my mouth and drop it in Gerard’s lap. He’s looking at me puzzled but with interest. We’re getting somewhere. I keep peering up at the framed records on the wall but he’s not getting the hint.
I remember there’s a keyboard in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I have a genius plan. I scurry out of the room. “Come on Gee! Let’s go!” I know it’s just coming out as meows but he still gets the hint and follows me. I hop on top of the keyboard as soon as we get upstairs. Much to my delight, he turns it on without me even having to do anything. I guess I am doing good at this whole being a cat thing.
I pause for a moment and look at him directly in the eyes. This is my last chance. I carefully pick up my paw and plop it down on the keyboard. A single G note echoes through the air.
Suddenly I feel a shift in the air. I hear a distant “Frankie?”
Gerard is staring at me, eyes wide open, jaw basically on the floor.
“Frankie?”
I heard the voice again but it’s not coming from Gerard’s mouth.
“Frankie?”
My vision goes black.
“Frankie?”
Then suddenly, my eyes blink open. Everything is blurry and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. I feel a pair of arms gripped to my shoulders, shaking me a bit.
“Frankie!”
Gerard comes into view and he’s grinning. I look down hesitantly and sigh in relief when I see my hands. My human hands, my tattoos, my legs, my feet. I look back up to Gerard who looks a little concerned.
“You okay, Frankie? I think you got a little too high. You’ve been meowing for the past half an hour.”
I stared back, stunned. “I… I don’t know what happened.” I blurt out.
Gerard seemed to understand what I was saying, which is a good sign. I’m not meowing anymore. He pulls me into his arms and nuzzles his cheek against my head.
“Shhh, it’s gonna be okay, Frankie. Good boy.”