Bogleech.com's 2013 Horror Write-off:

" The Many Cans "

Submitted by Dandelion Steph

“Meow! Meow!”

“Coming! I'm coming!”

Pamela grabbed a can of cat food and placed it under the can opener's blade. Her cat, Snickers, meowed like mad as the machine hummed. The cat trotted ahead of her as Pamela poured the glop into his bowl. Pamela petted Snickers as he ate. “That was the last can of cat food, Snickers. I'm going to need to go to the store and get some more.”

Pamela washed out the can and put it into the recycling bin. She noticed the pantry door was still open, and walked over to close it.

There was another can of cat food.

“Oh, silly me! I thought we didn't have any more.” Embarrassed at her mistake, Pamela closed the pantry door.

“Meow!”

“Snickers, you just ate.”

Snickers looked up at her with irresistible, big-eyed dependency. “Fine, fine. A little more for the greedy cat.” Pamela opened the pantry again.

There were two cans.

What? That's impossible. How could I not have noticed it before?

Pamela opened the second can and dropped some of the food into Snickers' bowl. She stashed the rest of the refrigerator and then turned to the pantry door.

There were six cans.

If this is some kind of joke, then why would the perpetrator skip three, four, and five?

Pamela held her head. No. It's more likely I'm going senile. I don't want to be senile, I'm too young...

Pamela looked up at the cans again. There were twelve cans, all filling that shelf of the pantry. Pamela shoved the cans aside, looking for some canned pineapples she planned on eating.

The canned pineapples were not there.

I'm not senile. I can't be senile. Drugs? Maybe there's some---

Something hard fell onto her foot. Pamela cringed and inspected the object. It was a can of cat food.

“Where are all these cans of cat food coming from?!” Pamela yelled.

Snickers was staring at her. “What? Was I too loud for your sensitive kitty ears?'

At this, Snickers trotted off. Pamela had the impression Snickers was insulted. Maybe he's not. It's hard to tell with cats.

Pamela tried to close the door to the pantry, but something was blocking the way. Let me guess, it's cat food.

It was cat food. Lots and lots of cat food. Nothing but cat food on all the pantry's shelves.

“I'm dead, and this must be hell. A very strange hell.” Pamela guessed. “Fire and brimstone would be too pleasant for someone in Michigan, I suppose. Or maybe the fire's outside.”

Feeling no other option but to follow this logic, Pamela opened the door to her house. Snickers, who was sitting by the door, scampered out.

Pamela left the threshold to her house. There was still snow on the ground. Not hell, then. Or it's a strange hell.

She heard a sharp, splintering crack to the side. Pamela turned to the source of the noise and found a massive stack of canned cat food bulging against one of her house's windows. The cat food was in the doorway now, too, where she had passed through just a few moments before.

Pamela quickly shut the door to her house. She backed away, alert for any more cat food appearances. Nothing happened for a minute. She turned away and spotted Snickers running.

There was a great wooden groan, but by now, her curiosity for the phenomenon had been quashed. She chased after Snickers as a great flood of cans pushed open the door.