Zombie Cat

And so, it being school holidays, Honourable Son was up late killing things in horrific ways on the computer, accompanied by his faithful cat, Alley. Because said cat is black, when Honourable Son caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, he looked down to discover one of his worst nightmares was coming true.

ZOMBIE.....CAT.......OOOOOOOZING............BRAAAAAAAAIIIIIIN!!!!!!!!!!

There was this huge bubble of white stuff exuding from the cat's head. The cat, in fairness, did not look menacing, more puzzled. Honourable Son finally managed to move his legs, went and got some paper towel, and tried to collect the brain, at which point it became clear that it was not, in fact, brain, but pus.
I'm impressed with his presence of mind. He held the cat still and squeezed his head until it stopped oozing, then he hurtled upstairs and fetched the Dettol and dabbed the cat's head with that. Apparently EEEEEWWWWWW does not begin to cover it (this from someone who had to stop slicing trolls in half and splattering blood all over the landscape in order to de-pus the cat).
He gave me chapter and verse when I got home from work the next day, while he was getting frustrated with the Internets. To get his mind off things, I offered to drive him to the dairy for a Coke; and when we got back we were greeted in the driveway by a cat who now appeared to be oozing strawberry yoghurt from his head. He hurtled in and dropped his Coke (get your priorities right, I always say) while I hurtled upstairs and got witch hazel, came back for paper towel and met him in the lounge with said cat in his arms.
He's good with animals, obviously, because Alley patiently sat there and purred while we alternately dabbed and squeezed till what was coming out was in fact watery blood and it had largely stopped. At this point I dabbed on witch hazel, and the cat departed to find out if there was food in his bowl. Clearly at some point he had been in a fight, and got a scratch on his head; as is the way with cats the skin closes over while the scratch festers beneath.
Honourable Son, having kept up a nonstop running commentary on how disgusting it all was and how the original explosion had looked like cream and the later ooze like strawberry ice-cream, observed at this point that he was going to be suffering from some serious food issues for the rest of his life.                  
I just phoned home to find out how the cat was doing and Honourable Son tells me Alleys' head exploded again - this time from a different scratch.
Wonder if they make cat-sized crash helmets?