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How Occam Got his Name
Daddy took a tray, tarnished and black, and slid it in under the bottom of the cage. It stank and it hurt. It hurt in every bone of Trace’s body. He started to pace to try and get away from the tray and the pain. He paced and paced, snarling. Wanting out. Wanting to eat. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry!
But the human named Daddy didn’t feed him. The human named Daddy drove him all night, far away. And sold him to the man at the traveling carnival. Sold him for twenty-five dollars.
“Don’t never take away the tray in the bottom. Not never,” the human named Daddy said.
“Why?” The carnie man spat in the dirt.
“The tray controls him. Take away the tray and he’ll attack.”
Cat who was once a human heard and smelled the lie. The tray was danger.
“What’s its name? For the sign over the cage,” the Carnie man said.
“Oakum. Just Oakam.”
Oakum. The cat held on to that word. His name. His name before he became a demon and the Daddy human sold him.
The carnival man gave him a steak and Oakum tore into the meat and his belly stopped hurting.
The dawn came. The pain hit his bones and his skin and his teeth. Pain like nothing he’d ever felt before. But it passed. And the carnival man put a sign over his cage. It said, “Occam’s Razor, Devil Cat.”