he who has my love.
by flower maiden deux
(1350 views) - 12/22/08
(recorded 12/22/08 @ 12:56:30 AM)
Who. Gives. A. Shit.
Current mood: amused


Can I just say how much I love the one that wears whiskers. His ick breath, those incandescent eyes and sharp freaking teeth! Yowza! Really, when all else in the world fails, I always have his striped fur to remind me that I can't just lay down and let the steam roller have it's way, for he has a mouth, and it needs to be fed. Therefor, I need to get up everyday, and go to my job. Which really, is the harbinger of all my malcontent. But who's isn't? So I go there, make a certain chump wage, and come home. He is waiting. Not patiently, or eagerly, or earnestly. No, none of these things. Sometimes it takes him like, four hours until the beast realizes that I'm home. Then he saunters into my living space and is all,

"hey. when did you get here?"
"awhile ago." I state.
"oh, " pause, self-licking. "why didn't you wake me up?"
"I did."
another pause, with furrowed brows. "Oh yeah." ear twitch. "Don't do that again."

Really, I have one of two choices. Either, I smother him with love and affection, (which really, I can't help it and I do it anyway) Or, I accept my place as his "wage" and move on with my life, hoping to be graced with his presence. The one that hails from the little-head-big-body tribe wont tell you, but he's most affectionate in the wee hours of the mornin'. Gettin' all up in my shit, nuzzling my face, licking my eye (yeah, you tell me) and putting his chubby cat pads on my face. Curling up around my head like some self-employed crown, he'll stay until I stir again. Which really only results in receiving curled talons to the forehead and temples. Fair enough. I didn't want to go to work to earn things for you to masticate and imbibe, any damn way. Here's the best part. My morning routine. It goes a little something like this;

First of all, if my door isn't open, the floor and the actual wooden plank are scratched and huffed at until palpable irritation causes me rectify the doors status. Fine. I collapse back into bed.
"hey. wake up."
He is ignored, thusly.
"hello." twitch. "get up, please." now, the word please, is stressed in that not so pleasant tone. which causes me to turn over or mumbled obscenities. I am met with a raised brow and an indignant glare.
"I." Flash drive, knocked to the floor "Said." Candle, swoosh! "Wake." Jewelry promptly follows. "Up." Nano, pushed to the ground with such precision, the little bugger watches it fall.

The odd orange bellied one knows that last little stunt will make me jump out of bed so fast, I'll stumble into my own desk. Mornings, are not my forte. Hell, there not even mentioned. In any case, I come crashing for him, but he's off like a shot into the direction of the back door. He wants to go outside. I tug the door open with a huff, berating him with venomous looks and incoherent words at the same time. He steps out, that unnecessarily long tail, curled at the end, held high with an undeserved sense of achievement. I go, crumbling back into my bed that's been marred by the tiger-esque hair of said cat, Loki Samurai Pants.
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