Fragment #1

The day she ran over the cat on purpose, her kitchen caught fire. She had studied Philosophy in college. She knew what a post hoc fallacy was. It didn't change the feeling that the fire was some sort of retribution. She didn't really believe in God, or, didn't believe that he cared what she did to cats with her car, anyway. She had to keep from rolling her eyes whenever that friend mentioned karma. It still felt like someone had been watching her, and that that someone had wanted to let her know. Maybe it was Santa Claus. You better watch out! she sang to herself. It was December, and he was everywhere, white and red, like scarring. That was the only reason she had done it, really; Christmas has a way of getting you down.

She remembered the beginning of Moby Dick. It was the only part of it she could remember, since it was the only part of it she had managed to read. She didn't have the option of going to sea, but she did feel like knocking people's hats off. But people didn't wear hats you could knock off anymore. Maybe that was her problem. Maybe that's why she took it out on house pets: no top hats. If she came across any carolers dressed in period costume, though --- well, she and cats weren't the only ones who better watch out.