Cats, Jonathan Franzen thought as he gazed into his empty martini glass, despair written across his face. A sense of dread rose in his chest as he waited for his next drink, plagued by intrusive thoughts of his least favorite things. Cats, those blasted murderers of all my lovely little songbirds, and Twitter, that vile platform for the destruction of Real Literature. Ebooks. Smartphones. The internet. Oprah. Those goddamn KITTENS on the B train track that delayed my train. Twitter.
JFranz paused, an even more grotesque spasm of horror distorting his features as an idea - truly, the most upsetting of all - began to crystalize.
Cats, he thought ominously. Cats, on the internet.