Jon sits with his knees at his chest, quivering in fear, as he hears the abomination that’s pursuing him breathing in the kitchen. “I can smell you, Jon. There’s no use in hiding the lasga from me now.” Garfield was right. He had grown too powerful for this mortal realm. “None can stop me, Jon. My final evolution has yet to be obtained, yet I am more powerful than any living being could ever imagine. You dare disrespect me, or my lasagne, I can make you suffer beyond comprehension. The lengths I can go to, Jon. Will go to. You know it’s no use. Just hand over the lasaga.” Garfield’s hulking form grows closer to the couch Jon hides behind every second. Jon can hear the cat’s sniffing now, like thousands of muffled screams. The stench of millions of rotting lasnas. Jon begins to sob. He knows that Garfield will only punish him further if he continues to hide, yet his body will not move. Garfield’s limbs make a heavy pounding sound as they impossibly carry his enormous frame towards the couch. “Perish, then.” Garfield says, his voice filled with immortal rage, the noise vibrating Jon’s bones. What has Jon created? How did he let this unspeakable evil fester in his home for so long? Will Garfield’s endless hunger ever cease? It is too late now, for Garfield devours Jon’s feeble body in one gulp, absorbing him into the hell that is his body. He feels his previous master sliding down his throat, and as the helpless screaming becomes moaning and sobbing, Garfield grins.