January 25th, 2006


Furry Balls of Death

The Muse took a bite of her green apple, chewed a moment, and then grunted in disgust. She opened her mouth and pushed her fingers inside, withdrawing a small clump of hair.

"Mental floss, Muse?" I asked.

"Fucking cat hair," she said. "Ever since you got cats, it's everywhere."

"They weren't rolling around in the fruit bin. I don't know how you could have gotten hair on your apple."

She eyeballed the cats, curled sleeping together on the chair in the opposite corner of the room. "Furry little assassins, that's what they are. They're out to get me."

"If they are," I said, "I'm sure you did something to deserve it."

"I'm a delicate flower. I don't deserve any maltreatment."

I snorted. "You're a carnivorous plant, if anything. Lure your prey with scents of honey, and then suck them in so they can't get away."

She smiled. "Honey, when I suck them in, they don't want to get away."

"Tell me again why you're single?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I have no idea. Gypsy curse, maybe."
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