The Meowmorphosis Read Online Free Page B

that morning a general physicalwell-being. His small limbs had firm, thickly carpeted floor under them; they obeyed perfectly, as he noticed to his joy, and strove to carry him forward in the direction he wanted. Right away he believed that the final relief from all his suffering was at hand. But at that very moment, as he lay on the floor kneading the carpet in a restrained manner quite close to his mother, who had apparently forgotten her initial delight at the appearance of a large kitten in place of a son, she suddenly sprang right up with her arms spread far apart and her fingers extended, crying out, “Help, for God’s sake, help!” She held her head bowed down, as if she wanted to view Gregor better, but ran senselessly back, contradicting that gesture, forgetting that behind her stood the table with all the dishes on it. When she reached the table, she sat down heavily on it, as if absent-mindedly, and did not appear to notice at all that next to her coffee was pouring out onto the carpet in a full stream from the large overturned container.
    “Mother, Mother,” said Gregor quietly, looking over toward her. He suddenly felt desperate to be in her lap once more, to have her stroke his head, and pet him, and perhaps give him a bit of fish. But she would not look at him. The manager momentarily disappeared completely from his mind. At the sight of the flowing coffee Gregor couldn’t stop himself licking his chops a few times. At that his mother screamed all over again,hurried from the table, and collapsed into the arms of his father as he rushed toward her. But Gregor had no time right now for his parents—the manager was already on the staircase. His chin level with the banister, the manager looked back for the last time. Gregor took an initial movement to catch up to him if possible. But the manager must have suspected something, because he made a leap down over a few stairs and disappeared, shouting “Huh!” along the way. The sound echoed back up through the stairwell.
    The manager’s flight seemed to agitate Gregor’s father, who earlier had been relatively calm. Unfortunately, instead of running after the man—or at least not hindering Gregor from his pursuit—with his right hand he grabbed hold of the manager’s cane, which he had left behind along with his hat and overcoat on a chair. With his left hand, his father picked up a large newspaper from the table, and, stamping his feet on the floor, he set out to drive Gregor back into his room by waving the cane and the newspaper. No plea of Gregor’s was of any use; no plea could even be understood. No matter how willing he was to turn his head respectfully, his father just stomped all the harder with his feet. The newspaper waved frighteningly in his vision, filling him with a curious terror, that he might be beaten with the news of the day, or worse.
    Across the room his mother had pulled open a window, inspite of the cool weather; leaning out with her hands on her cheeks, she pushed her face far outside the window. Between the alley and the stairwell a strong draft came up, the curtains on the window flew around, the newspapers on the table swirled about, and individual sheets fluttered down over the floor. His father relentlessly pressed forward, hissing furiously like a wild man. Now, Gregor had no practice at all in bolting away—and this backing up through the half-open door was really very slow going. If Gregor had only been allowed to take his own time about it, he would have been in his room presently, but he was afraid to make his father impatient by the time-consuming process of deciding whether he wished to be inside or outside a door—for such things seemed to take much longer to work their way through his feline brain than they once had—and each moment he faced the threat of a mortal blow on his head or back from the cane in his father’s hand. Finally Gregor had no other option, for he noticed with horror that he did not yet