The Game
I never liked you, the cat said with a smile.
I was trying to kill you when I slept on your head.
It wasn’t by coincidence that I tripped you again and again.
Nor were those love bites like you always said.
And the claws weren’t a whim when I scratched till you bled.
And if you believe that, you’ll believe this, too.
I never liked the kibble or any of the other food.
Your treats made me sick though I begged for more.
I didn’t like the tuna which you gave off a spoon.
It was all faked when chicken made me swoon.
And if you believe that, you’ll believe this, too.
I’m a cat and I like games.
I get bored and the days are too much the same.
So I do what I can to keep myself entertained.
Because I’m a cat and this was just another game.
Nepflooftism
Nepflooftism (floofinition) – Favoritism given to one floof over others.
In use: “Although cats, dogs, and pig shared Shari’s domicile, her nepflooftism kept her Cockatoo a happy bird.”
Thursday’s Wandering Thought
His eyebrows had transmorgified once more. As a youth, he had pleasant eyebrows — two clean, mildly arched lines populated with fine, neat hairs. Later, his eyebrow hairs thickened and a unibrow developed. He didn’t much mind the unibrow because he was often favorably compared to another unibrower, actor Tom Selleck, a flattering comparison. His forties found his unibrow’s center fading. Meanwhile, thicker brows appeared. A wild bramble of hairs took over. Suddenly the comparisons shifted from Selleck to the Soviet leader, Brezhnev, or television commentator Andy Rooney.
Those brows faded and changed, too. Now his brows had taken on another actor’s look, developing a Sam Waterston flip, where the eyebrows darkened and thickened again, but pointed up.
Like his eyebrows had their own life and pursued their own style. He wondered what they were going to do next.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
The differences between them are growing after almost half of a century being together.
The Jack Spratt nursery rhyme goes, “Jack Spratt could eat no fat. His wife could eat no lean. And so between the two of them, they licked the platter clean.”
It feels to him like they’re living in a modern version of that, with heat substituted for food. She needs the high heat. He’s fine barefoot and in a light sweater, the heat at 66 F. They put the heater on for her even as she dons more and more layers of clothes, and he strips down.
It’s like, “Mike S doesn’t feel the cold, his wife could feel no heating. And so between the two of them, he sweats as she is freezing.”
Sunday’s Wandering Thought
He read the coffee shop’s employee instructions for washing their hands. This was in the restroom. The final step of their hygiene guidance was to use a paper towel to turn off the water. These were part of the instructions posted on an air dryer. The restroom had no paper towels.
It struck him as funny that they stopped with turning off the water using a paper towel which wasn’t available and didn’t mention opening the door. With what were the employees to seize the handle? Apparently, the door handle was safe, where the water handle was not.
Floofstack
Floofstack (floofinition) – 1. A pile of animals sleeping or playing together, or animals side by side or nose to tail.
In use: “Colder days brought the animals into a floofstack as they sought warmer spaces, decided other warm bodies weren’t bad, and put aside disagreements in comfort’s name.
2. An accumulation of activities needed to be done that were delayed because of animals.
In use: “Barb had a dozen things she planned to do on the computer but it was like every household animal was given the word, because all of them came in asking her for things and she soon faced a floofstack as other tasks were added.”
3. A list of actions needed to be done for animals.
In use: “With a household full of critters, Stacy and her children had a constant floofstack to work down, beginning with morning feedings and cleaning food and water bowls and refilling them, to walking animals, and cleaning cages and kitty litter boxes.”
Friday Change
Slow for a Friday, the coffee shop was relatively quiet. The baristas’ joking behind the counter was actually heard across the business.
Only three other patrons occupied tables. Regulars, he knew their names, drinks, and faces. He supposed that they knew the same for him. Maybe not. Maybe they weren’t as observant as him or didn’t care.
A thin sigh passed his lips. He was supposed to be writing but it was one of those days when procrastination stopped him like a mudslide blocking a road. He was a little bored, tired, and restless. I’ll begin in a minute, he told himself, and noted the time. Yeah, like he was really that disciplined and focused. More coffee will help, he decided.
Reaching for the cup, he glanced at the coffee shop table. The blond wood – he didn’t know what kind it was – had a dark knot which resembled a mustache. As he chuckled at that, he spotted two small symmetrical knots above the mustache. They were like eyes, he mused, sipping coffee.
The eyes blinked at him.
His body quailed with alarm as his mind shouted, “What the hell?” He set the coffee down.
A new knot rose, forming a mouth below the mustache.
He looked around the coffee shop. No one was near. He wanted to show someone as validation for his sanity, and then pulled out his phone to photograph the small developing face. As he raised the phone for the photo, the mouth moved.
“Help me,” he heard. “Help.”
Pulling back, he lowered the phone. Friday was about to change in ways he’d never planned.
Michael Seidel, writer 