The page on cats isn't very interesting. It just talks about how lazy cats are, how all they do is lay there and eat all day. It even goes on to praise dogs and to say that if you own a cat, you should take it out to the backyard and shoot it immediately. As a cat lover yourself, you are shocked and outraged at this damn book. You pull your Swiss Army Knife out of your pocket and stab the book right where the cat's paw is in black ink. It shoots out of the book like a fountain, splattering your face with it. You cough and gag as the ink spills down your throat, up your nose, and into your eyes. They burn like hell. You scream and rub your eyes, but that doesn't seem to do any good.
You run to the library's bathroom and splash water into your face, gagging and crying. The dank, fishy taste of the ink is still present in your mouth. You take several gulpfuls of water and gag, spitting out some ink. Your eyes still burn. Now half blinded, you stumble your way out of the library, banging into trash cans and telephone poles on your way back home. All along the way, you hock up gobs of black ink. You even barf once, but something doesn't look right. There seems to be some kind of fish bone and gunks of tuna in your vomit. You had a burger for lunch. You feel so awful that you don't even stop to consider this.
One man stops you in the street. "Excuse me, sir, do you feel all right?" he asks with concern. You look up into his face and he yells. He takes a step back, then turns around and sprints away in the other direction, screaming all the way. You feel so nauseated right now, you don't even care. As you make your way home, more people stop and look at you strangely. They look just as afraid as the other man did.
All along the way, you notice the world seems dark and gloomy. With every step you take, the suns seems a little less bright, the colors a little more muted. You've walked nearly fifteen blocks until the though penetrates your cloudy mind that you can't see any color. The whole world is black and white. Not that you care much.
You never realized how late it was getting. The streetlights are on. Right as you step outside your apartment building, a drunk college dude ambles up to you and says drunkenly, "Nice contacts, dude!" he gives you another drunken smile and stumbles away. You don't have contact prescriptions.
You somehow make it to your apartment without falling down. As you open the door, you accidentally kick your pet cat, Jack. Jack yowls at you and darts under the couch like he always does. You stumble to the bathroom and flick on the lights. The walls should be painted yellow, but now they're just dull and grey. You walk over to the mirror and look yourself directly in the face. The sight brings you out of your drunken state.
You gasp in shock at your eyes. The whites and color of your eyes are gone. The only thing that remains is your pupils, which are just black slits suspended in a pool of some dim color that sort of resembles green. Not your natural shade.
You now have the eyes of a cat.