Fictionlet
“I had a nocturnal visitor in the wee hours,” said Greg, looking up from his Saturday morning paper as Brigid meandered in, amazed as always at what a difference being able to sleep until 10:00 made in her disposition.
“I’m familiar with male biology,” she responded, pulling a cereal bowl out of the cabinet. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Um, no,” said Greg. “That’s not what I mean. I mean in the pre-dawn glimmer, there was someone in my bed, other than me, who hadn’t received prior authorization to be there.”
“Yvonne’s getting aggressive!” Brigid shook a mostly-empty box of cereal to gauge its content. Unsatisfied, she put it back on top of the refrigerator and pulled down another mostly-empty box and shook it, instead.
“A cardiac arrest is the last thing I want right now, thank you very much. No, this nocturnal visitor was small, white, and fluffy, with a distinctly feline aspect. In short, it was a cat.”
“Oh! That’s Ozymandias.”
“He doesn’t look like a trunkless pair of legs,” Greg commented.
“That’s because he’s not a trunkless pair of legs, he’s a cat.” She was on the fourth mostly-empty box at this point, and rapidly running out of others to shake.
Greg nodded. “My theory, exactly. But he is well-named, I’ll grant you that much. When I interrogated him re: his presence on my chest at oh-dark-thirty, he simply mewed as if to say, ‘Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'”
“Well, that’s a cat for you. Don’t worry about him, I’m watching him for Sharon for a few days.” She regarded the box-laden top of the refrigerator with a frown.
“The idea meets with my approval,” said Greg. “But before we break out the Dom Perignon to celebrate, I feel I should remind you that there’s a distinctly anti-pet bias in our lease. If I remember correctly, we’re not allowed to have any sort of critter in the place for more than 24 hours without having an extra $75 per month addendum on the rent.”
“Well, I won’t tell the rental office he’s here if you won’t,” said Brigid.
“I don’t intend to,” said Greg. “I just wanted to make sure that you were fully aware of the fact and were flouting what is technically a legally-binding contract of your own free will.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” Brigid said, sitting at the table. “It’ll be fine.”
“Er,” said Greg, noticing her breakfast. “What is that?”
“Cocoa Frosted Corn Puff Bran Flakes,” Brigid replied, pouring milk into her bowl. “Breakfast of champions.”
-The Gneech
EDIT: Altered a bit in response to comments.
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