|Another Very Short Story
||[May. 26th, 2007|04:50 pm]
Bump bump bump. O this driver. You’d think we were sacks of coal not bags of bones. Used to be a fishmonger’s on the corner. Lovely fresh fish from Fleetwood every morning. And now it’s all the way across town in the Ring and Ride. Bump, bump bump over the sleeping policemen but anything for Rajah. Scorchy came first. After they bombed Alma Rd. He turned up next morning. His people dead we guessed and his fur all singed. Sue nursed him. Then Dick came home and it was embarrassing. Like he was the rent man. Sue hid behind my skirt. And what did he say? He said I smell cat. After four years away fighting the Japs. Can’t call them that now, can we? Japanese. I smell cat. What a greeting. But he came to love them. Cats I mean not Japs. Flower-Power was all his. Used to spit at me and Sue but she’d curl up on Dick’s lap while he read the Evening News. Oh so heavy on the brakes. He’ll have us through the windscreen next. And then when Dick passed away there were the kittens we found in the hedge on the way to put flowers on his grave. People are so cruel. Sue said it was a sign. Puddled that girl. She named them for the boys in a band. Duran Duran that’s the one. We kept Le Bon. Well we had to. And then there was George Bush. After the President. The first one. Not the silly one they have now. He was a hunter. Sue hated having to bury the little bodies. But that’s cat nature I said. You can’t change them. Yes, George Bush was a proper cat. And now there’s Rajah. Silly old white hearth rug. Laziest cat in the universe. Never caught anything. But loves his fish. All the way to Asda for a nice piece of haddock for Rajah. Bang wallop at the lights and here’s the car park. He’ll outlive me but Sue will take him in. I’ll put it in my will. Don’t forget to comb out his tangles or I’ll haunt you.