I can't believe you actually kicked the cat again.
You just have a knack for defiance it seems, after all these are your thoughts... as I predicted them.
So I'm not going to throw insults at you about how ignorant and malicious you are for kicking a poor innocent cat TWICE in a row, you should already know better than that.
Unless you're underage and just slinked past the mature rating, also quite a good possibility.
Although I am going to tell you your fate for kicking that cat again, and boy you are not going to like it. I warned you.
* * *
Tommy prepares to strike again, tail flapping against the wall, stairs, you. You prop yourself up on your elbows and attempt to glare him down, an attempt at the win by sheer size alone. Tommy doesn't react well to threats though and he starts batting his paw in your general direction slowly moving closer to your glaring face. You push up off the carpeted lower landing and spring up onto your heels faster than expected, and you can feel the after effects from the fall now.
You avoid tumbling backwards and brace yourself against the wallpaper, why did your mother insist on a pattern of tiny microscopic FLOWERS? "Country Lane" she called it... more like if grandma's house could be described with a wallpaper alone. Tommy takes advantage of this distraction and lunges for your foot, claws out, teeth gnashing, both of which make the slow and forceful sink into the flesh of your ankle. With as ferocious of a yelp as you can make you scoop Tommy up between his back legs with your toes and kick him straight into the opposite wall. Turns out "Country Lane" is good for something, although you have a feeling Tommy wouldn't agree with you.
Tommy, now feeling defeated, angry, and still sick from the milk, begins the awful squealing hacking noise that can only be associated with the murder of innocents or a vomiting feline. Stopping momentarily to run down the hall he, little known to you, begins making his way to your new pair of Converses by the door just to leave you a little present. Right before he slinks around the wall to make for the doorway you swear he smirks at you. That rat bastard. Turns our you do lose this fight after all, milk shoes.
Not much good happens when you kick a cat twice, but I told you not to do it so I have to say you got what was coming to you. After you're done cleaning out your shoes why don't you pick another branch. or maybe you could apologize toTommy, ass.