The Old Cat Man

This is a story about an old man
A very old man, lived a hundred and ten years
A peculiar old man, lived with a hundred and ten cats
Grew vegetables in his yard
Worked very hard
Sold his crop every week
At the drive-in, where the pictures speak
His wife, she died and left him
His children moved away
No one to console him, but the cats
The cats were his family now
But still he got up every day
Tended his crops...
Fed his cats...
Then one sunny Sunday
Someone noticed he wasn't there
The kids who loved his apples went to seek him
They went to his meager little shack
They heard a loud meowing
And they smelled a vile stench
The not-so-subtle aroma of death...
They opened up the old wooden door...
A hundred and ten fuzzy faces ran screeching by
Tasting their freedom at last...
A hundred and ten tails disapeared thru the tall grass...
Three boys and three girls put their brave faces on
They fought back the urge to puke
They found the old man, or what was left of him, anyway
Half melted into a sofa that looked as old as he was...
Seems he had died in his slumber,
And the cats had run out of food...
The instinct for survival had been stronger than companionship...
So even in death, the old man still fed his cats...
There is always more to the story, but...
I will leave the rest up to the imagination of the readers....
The End