After a hurried examination from the vet on call, and an even faster application of a tiny cast, Kitty was deemed worthy enough to spend the night in the animal hospital to make sure her paw cast had properly set. Donald was eyed susupiciously by the nurse who showed him how to clean Kitty's cast once she could come home. "She probably thinks I'm a sadastic cat torturer---well, lady maybe you're only half wrong."

"Wait!" he thinks to himself. He suddenly feels so stupid, so wronged, so incredibly gullible. He listens to some freak on the street, gets his shoes a bit muddy on the walk home and then instantly thinks he's a psycho night-stalker. He is so freaking stupid to believe that he could ever, ever be capable of more than a spirited fight outside a bar (well, that was in college, these days the only fights he had involved only xbox 360).

"But what about the midnight withdrawal of everything in your account?" A cruel, slithering voice whispered. The voice sounding just like the creep in the suit. No, he would not listen to the creep's voice, either in his head or in person. This loser had just cost him perhaps the best sex and maybe even relationship of his year (let's face it, accountant boy--maybe the best sex of his life) and he wasn't going to make Donald lose anything else, especially not his mind.

"I am not a killer." Donald said out loud in much more than a whisper. The cat nurse looked up at him lamely.
"Nobody called you a killer, mister. Just sign off on your cat's overnight stay and get out of here already."
Donald did as he was told and got out of there. He had some serious apologizing and begging to do. He decided to stop in the first convenience store he saw and buy some condoms just in case.