The worst person in the world

(My sister doesn't read my blog. But if she did, she'd cry when she read this story. If you're especially fond of cats, I wouldn't read this story.)

This friend of mine I work with at Pizza Inn is currently looking for a new place to live. He was living with his mom and his mom's fiancé, but has abruptly decided to move away.

See, he had this cat. The cat was sick, almost certainly dying, and he didn't have the money to get it treated. The fiancé felt the cat should be put down, but my friend argued, for obvious emotional reasons. My friend made a few other suggestions, including dropping the cat off at the SPCA or an animal shelter -- he'd still lose the cat, but someone would at least try to take care of it. Decision still unmade, he went to work.

But when he got to Pizza Inn (this was on Thursday), my boss sent him back home -- his shirt was covered in cat hair, and needed to be cleaned. So home he went.

Where he found the decision regarding the cat had been made for him. Because the fiancé killed it. By shooting it. He shot the fucking cat in the head.

Words fail.

My friend is, at the moment, considering taking a well-paying job in Dallas. Anything to get out of here.

What a complete bastard. I mean, yeah, the cat was sick, sure. But there were other ways. And this is all sidestepping the fact that it wasn't even his cat! I don't care how sick the animal is, you don't just murder somebody's cat.

Several of us at Pizza Inn wanted to put together a posse to fuck that guy up. But it my friend's mother's fiancé -- anything done to him (like calling the cops, which I suggested) hurts her, too.

So he's just going to get the fuck out of here. I don't blame him.

Repugnant behavior.