There were two Vincents in Rody Lamoree’s life, and neither one was particularly thrilled about it. The first Vincent was his quiet, brooding, slightly unhinged roommate who seemed allergic to fun and human emotions. The second Vincent was a cat.
Manon Vacher, their third roommate, had been watching this absurd rivalry unfold with glee for weeks, and today she was thoroughly enjoying herself. You see, there are few things in life more entertaining than watching a grown man engage in a subtle, psychological war with a cat.
It all started the day Rody brought the tabby home.
“I found him outside the bakery! Isn’t he cute?” Rody beamed, holding up a rather unimpressed-looking ball of fur. The cat blinked slowly, already giving off an aura of superiority.
Manon, sitting at the kitchen table, stared at the cat, then at Vincent (the human), then back to the cat. “What are you gonna name him?” she asked, hiding her smirk behind her coffee cup.
Rody grinned, like he had just come up with the best idea in the world. “I’m gonna name him… Vincent.”
There was a silence, during which Vincent (the human), who had been peacefully brewing his tea, froze.
Manon’s face lit up in pure, unadulterated amusement. She quickly glanced at Vincent (the human), who was looking at Rody as though he had just been personally betrayed. “Vincent,” he repeated, deadpan.
“Yup!” Rody said, setting the cat down on the kitchen floor. “Doesn’t he look like a Vincent? All mysterious and stuff.”
Vincent (the human)’s eye twitched ever so slightly.
Manon was beside herself, desperately holding back laughter. “Oh yeah, definitely mysterious,” she said, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
—
The first battle took place in the kitchen, naturally.
Vincent (the human) prided himself on being an early riser. He liked to start his mornings with a cup of tea in silence, before Rody burst into the day like a particularly excited golden retriever. But when he came downstairs the next morning, there was an intruder.
Vincent (the cat) was sitting on the counter, his green eyes half-lidded, judging the world from his lofty perch. He yawned lazily when Vincent (the human) walked in, as though daring him to try something.
Vincent (the human) narrowed his eyes. “Off,” he said flatly, pointing at the floor. The cat blinked, as if to say, *Who do you think you’re talking to, peasant?*
Not one to be outdone, Vincent (the human) stepped closer and swatted the cat off the counter. Vincent (the cat) landed gracefully and promptly leaped back up, his tail swishing in Vincent’s face like an arrogant little flag of victory.
“Vincent, hey!” Rody’s voice interrupted, and both Vincents turned. Vincent (the human) realized, too late, that the name now applied to both of them. “There you are, buddy!” Rody scratched the cat’s head, beaming. “You’re up early too, huh?”
Vincent (the human) frowned, watching in growing horror as Rody lavished attention on his feline rival.
—
By mid-week, the cat had cemented his place in Rody’s heart, and Vincent (the human) was *not* pleased.
The living room became a new battlefield. Rody, as oblivious as ever, loved relaxing on the couch with Vincent (the cat) curled up in his lap. Vincent (the human) would sit in the armchair, watching the cat soak up all the attention with a simmering intensity that could’ve boiled water.
“Hey, Vince,” Rody said one evening, looking up from his spot on the couch where the cat was sprawled luxuriously across his legs. “Wanna join us? We’re just chilling.”
Vincent (the human) stared. He stared at Rody, at the cat, at the sheer *audacity* of the situation. “I prefer my personal space,” he muttered, but his glare remained locked on the cat, who opened one eye and smirked-or at least, that’s what it looked like to Vincent (the human).
“Suit yourself!” Rody shrugged, completely unfazed, as he began scratching the cat’s belly. “Vincent loves belly rubs, don’t ya, Vin?”
Manon, who had been observing from the kitchen doorway, finally lost it. She doubled over, laughing so hard she nearly spilled her wine. “Oh my God, *Vincent loves belly rubs*! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she wheezed.
Vincent (the human) shot her a look that could melt steel, but she only laughed harder, fully embracing the chaos.
—
By the end of the week, Manon was thriving on the tension. She lived for moments like this.
One evening, she came home to find Rody sprawled on the couch, the cat draped over his lap like a regal king surveying his domain. Vincent (the human) was sitting across from them, his arms crossed, scowling as though the very sight offended him on a spiritual level.
“Hey, Rody,” Manon said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Wanna watch a movie with me?”
Rody, as clueless as ever, grinned. “Sure! What’re we watching?”
“Oh, you know, something romantic,” Manon teased, her eyes sliding over to Vincent (the human), who stiffened slightly.
Rody scratched the cat behind the ears. “Sounds fun! Vincent, you wanna watch too?”
Vincent (the human) looked like he was about to choke on his own dignity. “I’ll pass,” he muttered, his gaze locked on the smug cat in Rody’s lap.
Manon leaned in close to Vincent (the human), whispering in his ear, “You know, if you don’t do something soon, you’re going to lose him. To a cat.”
Vincent (the human) glared at her with enough intensity to fuel a power grid, but Manon just winked and waltzed off, thoroughly enjoying herself.
—
The climax of the rivalry happened during “roommate bonding day.” Rody had decided, in his infinite wisdom, that all three of them should hang out together to strengthen their friendship. Of course, this included Vincent (the cat).
“We’re gonna make pancakes, and then maybe go to the park!” Rody announced, as if he’d just solved world hunger.
Vincent (the human) watched in silent horror as Vincent (the cat) immediately claimed Rody’s lap during breakfast, curling up like he owned the place. The human Vincent tried to focus on his own plate, but it was impossible when every five seconds, Rody was baby-talking to the cat.
“Aww, Vinny, you want some pancake?” Rody cooed, offering a tiny piece to the cat, who accepted it with a smug purr.
Manon, across the table, was losing it. She could barely eat between fits of laughter. “This is *incredible*,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “Rody, you’re the only person I know who can have a love triangle with a cat.”
Rody, as always, was oblivious. “What do you mean? We’re all just friends!” He reached over to ruffle Vincent (the human)’s hair, which only made Vincent glare harder at the cat.
—
By the end of the day, Vincent (the human) was barely holding it together. He sat on the armchair, brooding, while Rody and Manon sat on the couch, chatting and playing with Vincent (the cat).
“Today was fun!” Rody declared, completely unaware of the civil war waging beneath the surface. “We should totally do this more often!”
Manon grinned. “Yeah, I don’t know, Rody. Some people seem to have issues with the, uh… *other* Vincent.”
Rody blinked. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Manon burst into laughter again, and Vincent (the human) groaned, burying his face in his hands. If this kept up, he was going to have to do something drastic.
Like confess his feelings for Rody before the cat completely stole his spot.
Or, you know, murder the cat.
Whichever came first.
Vincent (the human) hadn’t really considered how ridiculous his life had become until this moment. Sitting across from his roommate, losing an unspoken war for Rody’s affection to a *cat*, all while Manon watched with her insufferable grin.
Something had to change.
—
The next day, Vincent (the human) woke up with a plan. He was going to win Rody over-no more passive-aggressive glances at the cat. He’d show Rody that he was more than the aloof, mysterious roommate. He could be affectionate, charming, even fun. And more importantly, he was a human-clearly a superior species to a cat.
Step one? Take the battle directly to Vincent (the cat).
Manon watched from the corner of the room as Vincent (the human) walked purposefully into the living room, where Rody was lazily petting Vincent (the cat) while watching TV.
“Rody,” Vincent (the human) said, his voice unusually gentle. He walked up to the couch, his eyes calculating. “Why don’t you let me sit with you today?”
Rody glanced up, blinking in surprise. “Oh, uh, sure! There’s space.” He scooted over slightly, patting the cushion beside him. “Vincent’s just being extra snuggly today, aren’t you, buddy?”
Vincent (the human)’s eyebrow twitched, but he sat down anyway. He gave the cat a look that clearly said, *Your days are numbered, furball.*
Vincent (the cat) stretched luxuriously, pressing even closer to Rody’s lap, a look of smug satisfaction in his green eyes.
Vincent (the human) cleared his throat. “You know, Rody, I’ve been thinking… we haven’t really spent much time together lately. Just the two of us.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rody said, distracted by the TV and scratching the cat’s chin at the same time. “I guess not, huh? You’ve been kinda busy with work, I think?”
Vincent (the human) mentally cursed. How was he supposed to compete with a creature that only needed to purr to get Rody’s undivided attention?
Manon, of course, had perfect timing. She peeked into the room, catching sight of the absurd scene playing out before her. “Oh, this is good,” she muttered to herself, whipping out her phone to record. This was prime material for her ongoing saga, “Vincent vs. Vincent.”
“Say, Rody,” Vincent (the human) began, trying to reclaim control of the situation, “why don’t we go out tonight? Just us. Dinner, maybe.”
Before Rody could respond, Vincent (the cat) stretched a paw and batted at Rody’s arm, his purr intensifying. Rody instantly melted. “Aw, Vinny, you’re so cute! Heh, maybe I should make you a little pancake for dinner.”
Vincent (the human) snapped. “The *cat* doesn’t need to eat pancakes, Rody!” he burst out, finally cracking under the pressure. “He’s not even supposed to be on the table, or the counter, or-“
Manon, who had been silently laughing in the doorway, couldn’t hold it in any longer. She doubled over, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my God! Vincent, you’re… you’re jealous of the *cat*!”
“I am *not* jealous!” Vincent (the human) hissed, his face turning a slight shade of red. “I just think that maybe Rody’s attention could be spent on more… meaningful company.”
“Like you?” Manon wheezed, clutching her stomach.
“Yes!” Vincent (the human) snapped, before realizing what he had just admitted.
Rody blinked, looking up at Vincent (the human) in genuine confusion. “Wait… what?”
Manon was on the floor by this point, gasping for air as she tried to speak. “He’s… oh my God, Rody, he’s jealous because you spend more time with the cat than him!”
Rody furrowed his brow. “Uh… Vince, are you… jealous of Vincent (the cat)?”
Vincent (the human) stood, crossing his arms, trying to regain his cool. “I’m not jealous of the *cat,* Rody. I just think maybe I should get some attention too.”
Rody looked between Vincent (the human), who was clearly flustered, and Vincent (the cat), who had now rolled over, belly up, purring loudly. “I mean… I didn’t think you wanted attention. You’re usually all quiet and, y’know, moody.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if you didn’t constantly-“
Vincent (the cat) chose that moment to hop down from Rody’s lap and saunter over to Vincent (the human)’s legs, rubbing his head against his ankle like he owned the place.
Vincent (the human) glared down at the cat, who met his gaze with what could only be described as feline smugness. “What?” Vincent (the human) muttered, as the cat continued to purr against him.
Manon, barely able to breathe from laughing so hard, managed to choke out, “Oh no, now you’ve made peace with your enemy!”
Vincent (the human) closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”
Rody, scratching his head, finally stood up and stepped closer to Vincent (the human). “Vince, if you wanted to hang out or something, you could’ve just said so.”
Vincent (the human) opened one eye, peering at Rody cautiously. “I didn’t think I had to compete with a cat.”
Rody blinked, then chuckled, patting Vincent (the human)’s shoulder. “You don’t have to compete with Vincent (the cat). You’re both… important to me.”
Manon, still lying on the floor, snorted. “Rody, that’s the least reassuring thing you’ve ever said.”
Rody scratched his neck awkwardly. “I mean, Vincent (the cat)’s cute and all, but you’re my best friend. So, if you wanna hang out more, I’m totally down.”
Vincent (the human) looked at Rody, the tension in his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “You really are completely clueless, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much!” Rody grinned, oblivious as always.
Manon, now standing and wiping her eyes, smirked. “This has been the best week of my life. Honestly, Rody, you’ve done more for my entertainment than Netflix ever could.”
Rody tilted his head. “I don’t get it. Why is everyone so obsessed with this cat rivalry thing?”
“Because,” Manon said, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “it’s not every day you witness a love triangle where one of the competitors has fur and claws.”
Rody looked between Manon and Vincent (the human) again, still not understanding. “Wait, what?”
Manon rolled her eyes, patting Rody on the back. “Never change, Rody. Never change.”
Vincent (the human) sighed but gave Rody a small, almost imperceptible smile. Maybe this ridiculous cat wasn’t the real issue after all.
But he still wasn’t sharing the couch.
Vincent (the cat), of course, leapt back onto the couch with a triumphant flick of his tail.
Manon doubled over laughing again, and Rody just sighed. “Guess I’ll get a bigger couch.”
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