TM Topic #317 What do you still have from when you were young?
Percy Pepperton was a cat. Probably the scraggliest, ugliest, meanest feline ever to be flea bitten in the history of the world.
Are you cock of the walk when you're walking alone?'>
He was missing a back foot, an eye and an ear by the time she found it and well on his way to losing his other eye because it was infected.
The night she found him it was just starting to rain and everyone was diving into doorways to get out of the rain. She and I were no exception. We were just moving off the street and she saw something in the gutter. That was Lola - nothing was ever too low or too ugly to catch her attention. Anyway she fished out what looked like a tangled hairball. Anyone else wouldn't have touched it with a fifty foot pole and definitely not their bare hands. But there he was. She brought him home and fed him and bathed him and took care of his wounds.
He was the last thing we needed or wanted, but I have to say the damned cat was pretty clever, he clung to her like a fat kid to a piece of cake. He made a point of sleeping right between her feet at night, every time she left the room he meowed until she came back and got him and took to carrying him either in her coat or her messenger bag. He must have known that given half a chance either Papa Hawk or I would have dropped it from the tenth story window just to see it bounce. Don't judge me he was a really horrible fuckin' cat.
So he came to stay and the bigger he got the meaner he got, the little bit of fat she managed to put on him as a kitten melted away to just gristle and sinew. The fur grew over the socket that had held his missing eye and the eye that survived looked milky white even though he had some sight left in it. His claws went from little needles to scythes and the missing foot never slowed him down at all.
Percy wasn't that old when she died. Maybe four or five. I didn't take him with me when I left. I didn't really take anything with me. But I'd see him around now and then, in this alley or around that warehouse. Every time I saw him he looked a little worse for wear: fur falling out, ear chewed off, ribs showing. The last time I saw him he was back in the gutter not far from where she'd seen him the first time. Except this time he didn't just look dead. I found a box for him, took him to the cemetery and buried him next to her.
Later on when I was ready to start dealing with people again I'd use his name instead of my own. Percy Pepperton had a better ring to it anyway. Even though I hated that damned cat - he'd missed her so much that he died. If nothing else, I could respect that.
Muse: Grave Robber
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Word Count: 513
Are you cock of the walk when you're walking alone?'>
He was missing a back foot, an eye and an ear by the time she found it and well on his way to losing his other eye because it was infected.
The night she found him it was just starting to rain and everyone was diving into doorways to get out of the rain. She and I were no exception. We were just moving off the street and she saw something in the gutter. That was Lola - nothing was ever too low or too ugly to catch her attention. Anyway she fished out what looked like a tangled hairball. Anyone else wouldn't have touched it with a fifty foot pole and definitely not their bare hands. But there he was. She brought him home and fed him and bathed him and took care of his wounds.
He was the last thing we needed or wanted, but I have to say the damned cat was pretty clever, he clung to her like a fat kid to a piece of cake. He made a point of sleeping right between her feet at night, every time she left the room he meowed until she came back and got him and took to carrying him either in her coat or her messenger bag. He must have known that given half a chance either Papa Hawk or I would have dropped it from the tenth story window just to see it bounce. Don't judge me he was a really horrible fuckin' cat.
So he came to stay and the bigger he got the meaner he got, the little bit of fat she managed to put on him as a kitten melted away to just gristle and sinew. The fur grew over the socket that had held his missing eye and the eye that survived looked milky white even though he had some sight left in it. His claws went from little needles to scythes and the missing foot never slowed him down at all.
Percy wasn't that old when she died. Maybe four or five. I didn't take him with me when I left. I didn't really take anything with me. But I'd see him around now and then, in this alley or around that warehouse. Every time I saw him he looked a little worse for wear: fur falling out, ear chewed off, ribs showing. The last time I saw him he was back in the gutter not far from where she'd seen him the first time. Except this time he didn't just look dead. I found a box for him, took him to the cemetery and buried him next to her.
Later on when I was ready to start dealing with people again I'd use his name instead of my own. Percy Pepperton had a better ring to it anyway. Even though I hated that damned cat - he'd missed her so much that he died. If nothing else, I could respect that.
Muse: Grave Robber
Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera
Word Count: 513