purring like a chainsaw >> wifey&wifey
Nov 8, 2013 11:21:58 GMT -5
Post by semper on Nov 8, 2013 11:21:58 GMT -5
bear Keeni
Honestly I don’t know where I’m going.
The road is dusty and the wind has a bite to it and it sinks its teeth right through my long sleeve shirt, drawing up goose bumps all over my skin. I grumble and curse at myself for being stupid enough to think I didn’t need a jacket. I shake my arms so that the sleeves cover my hands and I hold onto the sleeve cuffs, blocking out the chill from my shirt as best I can. Really, of all the times to be stupid, it has to be the day when it feels like the fucking Arctic outside. I can already hear Vicky’s nagging voice in the back of my head: ”Bear! Get a coat on before you freeze to death!” My arms cross over my chest and I shove my hands up into my armpits in an attempt to keep my fingers warm, but in that I realize the hem of the shirt has drawn up and allowed a breeze to run up under it, chilling my torso. I grumble with great intensity and hunch over, failing to somehow magically lengthen the shirt so that the cold air will leave me alone. ”Oh for fuck’s sake.”
I come to a quick stop and unfold my arms in order to shove the hem of my shirt down into my pants, and in the process I see someone close out of the corner of my eye. As I’m tucking the tail of my shirt in I turn to see one of my brothers (of sorts) trailing behind me. It’s not any of the idiot boys – no, it’s Kitty. (Well, Kitty’s not actually his name, but we don’t know what else to call him and he’s always purring and acting like a cat so that’s what we call him.) I stop in my mumbling and grumbling and go over to him, reaching out and patting his head like I always do. I don’t know what the hell ever possessed him to start acting like a cat but it amuses me how in-character he is all the time with it. Even when I’ve peeked around a corner to spy on him (don’t tell him I do that, though) he’s still curled up with is arms and legs tucked underneath him, and I swear if he had a tail then the tip would be flicking back and forth, and if he had whiskers then they’d be twitching whenever he scrunched up his nose. He’s a good kid, he really is; I don’t remember exactly when he showed up, all I know is that it was right at dinnertime. (We’re so used to people just randomly stopping by or popping up for a while that I never thought anything of it when I dragged him off to the bathroom to wash his nastypawshands first.) I’m glad he came when he did and I’m glad he’s stayed for so long. It’s nice to have someone that’s at least somewhat sane (or as sane as you can be when you act like a cat) staying in the household.
Kitty does his little purring things and I just grin, stroking his hair as if it’s fur. ”What the hell is wrong with you, kid?” I don’t mean it in a bad way, of course. He’s quite an oddity but he’s an unofficial Keeni so I love him all the same. ”Whatever it is, don’t ever change.” I scoff at myself. ”Kitty Calico, what an awful name. Why’d I even come up with that? Doesn’t matter. You don’t mind it, do you?”
