“Hurk…hurk…hurkawth,” Fluffy said before jumping up on the table. “Dere. Ai leff dem a prezzint.”
Bootsie shook her head. “Dey won’ like it.”
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Familiar…er Things and Gobble-de-gook. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
Fluffy licked her paws and wiped her whiskers. “Ai dunno. Dey shud like it. Iz da seezun for giving. Ai herd on da TeeVee.”
“Hoomans don’ think hairballz r gifts,” Bootsie said.
“Well dey shud,” Fluffy replied. “Iz mostly dere hair. Ai jus’ gather it up in wun place.”
Bootsie didn’t comment on her sister’s habit of eating every hair she could find. Or rather, not at that moment. Such remarks were more … incisive … when Fluffy scooted her butt around the floor because a strand got mostly through, but not enough to drop in the litterbox.
Fluffy gave her sister a cold stare. “Ai kan tell wat ur thinkin by how ur tail twitches, y’no.”
“Ai sed nuffin,” Bootsie maintained.
Roscoe yawned and walked into the dining room, his claws clicking on the polished hardwood floor. “Ooh, a snack!” he said as he spotted the hairball.
“Iz not for u, stoopid,” Fluffy said. “Iz for da hoomans.”
Roscoe looked up, head cocked and almost-brows furrowed in confusion. “But dey won’ eet it.”
Photo Credit: A Proper Bostonian