dive bar narsty pt2
dive bar narsty pt2
dive bar narsty~
it’s 6am,
and i take ezra out. standing at the top of my porch in a ridiculous, bright red robe, i call her inside.
she continues to stuff her jowls with sticks and flop around.
i scurry down, grab her by the collar, and we weeble wobble home together.
as soon as the door closes, ezra has found something tasty to chew on. i tell her to Drop It. she shakes her head, a most defiant Fuck No, and proceeds to chew faster.
i wrestle her to the ground, stick my fingers in her mouth, and pull out said tasty treat.
…..
it’s a mouse. not only is it a dead mouse, it is a badly mangled, slobbery, bloody fucking mouse. my cat, lincoln, has striked again! keeping all safe from sqeaking little rodents and spiders alike. but i’m not thinking about how proud i am of lincoln’s predatory skills, i’m thinking about the possible diseases i could get from holding this stinky, bloody mess of a mouse in my hand.
i scream, drop the mouse (right back into ezra’s mouth, go figure), and run to the bathroom in search of soap, water, perhaps bleach or, at this point in my panic, acid.
after much scrubbing and profanity, i return - only to see ezra swallow the damn thing (relatively) whole.
uh, goodmorning?
