I Get Hate Mail

Here we go again.

Don’t blame me, blame Nicky and Mike over at We Work For Cheese. It was their idea to run a 28 day writing challenge, and my own damned fault for giving into Nicky just because she promised me spicy takeout with extra sauce.

Which I’ve not seen yet, may I say?

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Whenever I hear “put out”, I always think of putting the cat out for the night.

More specifically, putting out King, the lion in the spare room.

You know I share a house with a lion, right?

King moved in a long time ago, though nobody told me. The first thing I knew, I awoke to impressive baritone singing from the shower at 6am, and a half-eaten zebra on the landing. *

[ * I wasn’t that surprised, to be honest; I’ve known iDifficult/Max for years, and somehow find my days to be replete with surprises. ]

Anyway, we worked past that initial hurdle with a few ground rules, and it turns out he’s an ambassador for his small African nation, walks about on two legs in a suit, and has a passion for silk neckties. My silk ties, to be precise; they started vanishing within a few days of his arrival. Not many, and not often, but they sure looked good on him whenever he was in front of the cameras.

Usually accompanied by a beautiful female companion.

The ladies, they love big cats.

Not that I begrudge him his fame, good looks and success with women. Even when he started dating Abbey, my next door neighbour.

I’m not bitter.

And he snores. Not that cute little drone your wife makes between bouts of rabbit-chasing twitching. ** It’s more of a full-on rhythmic roar, with a hissing hint of razor-sharp teeth. I get hate mail from zebras about it; it carries.

[ ** I’m just guessing. ]

So, at the end of the day, I often daydream about putting out the cat for the night; I might sleep better if I did.

Of course, 450 pounds of determined muscle and sinew is tricky to even move, let alone put out. And, despite his foibles, the lad is rather charming, and entertaining company.

Besides, I might get blood on my tie. They’re irreplaceable.

I only wish I got a chance to wear them.


Indigo

This blog entry is protected by copyright © Indigo Roth, 2013