So sit back in the autumn coated branches of your favorite tree, read these words on your laptop and enjoy...
WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN YOU SAY WE FIGHT ?
He calls the cat by a term of affection which is usually reserved for me. Sugar. What a stupid thing to call someone anyway. My little white crystalline solid.
And I lower my rump into my chair in the living room and wait for him to apologize.
He strokes the cat as though his hand were a rake going through soil. He bought that mentally gimped cat who seems to enjoy mistreatment off of a midget gypsy named Andre-Django. That's what he told me. I don't care. It's his cat. The cat.
Sugar, he says to me in a meow.
Pathetic. I wait.
"Look, what was I supposed to do ? My mouth was pumped full of anesthetic, it had clamps sticking out of it and a drill was going into a back molar ! Yes I saw somebody breaking into your car on the t.v. in the ceiling. I couldn't do anything. And yes I think there's something funny in that !! It's terrible that your car - in my care - was stolen. But I was just channel surfing, thinking holy shit this is kind of cool , I'm at the dentist but here I am watching t.v.: The Simpsons, some MTV, Pootie tang was on. Cool, cool, cool and then I land on some security camera channel of the parking lot. And they're stealing the car, but I was too pumped full of drugs to really care !! What was I supposed to do !! I was on my back and a drill was going into my molar. Of course I think there's something funny in that !! And now we're fighting ? Over something this stupid."
The cat has had enough of his bullshit and takes off. I don't blame it.
I sit and wait for a proper apology.