Monday, July 22, 2013

Living in Newark: Settling In, a Dree RainCave FanFic

Stan leftThe cat Majestic sprung from across the room into the lap of Dree RainCave who-- we must admit-- was sitting rather glumly on a rickety metal chair by the kitchen table.  Dree had his head in his hands and sat that way for several minutes.  Majestic flicked his tail around Dree RainCave's face.  When that failed to get his attention, Majestic began kneeding Dree's leg with his two front paws.  Admittedly, his nails had not been cut in quite a long time.  Finally, Majestic bit him on the arm.  Without drawing blood, although the beast certainly was tempted to.

It was Dree's left arm that Majestic bit.  "Dammit it cat," Dree cursed.  He knocked Majestic off of his lap.  The cat landed on the floor with a heavy thud, glared at Dree and immediately jumped back into his lap.  The scene repeated itself several times.  Dree was forced to give up.  A series of head-ramming against Dree's arm yielded some hesitant petting.  Majestic purred.  Dree sneezed.  
Honey finished deftly dividing the clothing into "his," "hers," and "hell no."  She ignored the shouts coming from the kitchenette, pondering her new set of circumstances.  She inspected the contents of the litter box.  Good, at least he doesn't have worms.  She then marched over to the houseplants.  There were six of them, bedraggled and starving from neglect.  She carried them to the tub and then turned on the shower full-force.  Honey watched as torrents of rusty water blasted their leaves and soaked through the mineral-encrusted dirt.  All of them were vines.  She liked flowers and wondered if there were any seedheads in the park across the street she could harvest.  She turned off the water then, noting that the washer for the hot water would soon need replacing and wandered over to the couch.  She squeezed the cushions.  Dust swirled around the room in random patterns.  Honey sighed heavily.  She counted her roll of money that the lawyer guy had given to her-- there were twenty six dollars in stripper singles and two five dollar bills.  At least she had some toiletries in her carry-on bag.  Honey then inspected the bed.  The mattress, to her relief, appeared to be new even if cheap.  She made up the bed and then flopped down on it and slept.

Dree got up from the table finally, shooing Majestic away carefully, and inspected the apartment itself.  He stowed the Obama phone in the freezer after ascertaining that it was turned off.  There were three trays of ice there and five packages of frozen mystery meat, two packages of peas, a package of green beans, and three of orange squash.  The fridge contained a carton of milk, a carton of orange juice [brown-- he knew that had to have come from a food bank], a tub of margarine and a huge jar of grape jelly, and that was all.  He found boxes of cereal on top of the fridge.  In the cabinets were instant coffee, canned soups, rice in one canister and red pinto beans in another.  Some dry cat food sat in a bag by the sink.  Salt and pepper were on a shelf.  No other spices.  Dree found two fry pans, a large pot, a few chipped dishes and bowls, mismatched mugs, the silver-plated silverware.  This really sucks, he thought.  What the hell are we going to eat?  He sneezed again.  The cat followed him around like a dog.  Everytime he stopped moving, Majestic wound himself around one of Dree's legs. 

Dree toured the bathroom-- a few towels, and Honey had laid out some toiletries from her carry-on bag.  There were huge rust stains in the sink and bathtub and toilet bowl.  Otherwise they were clean enough.  Dree noticed the plants on the tub floor with annoyance.  Majestic was purring loudly now.  Dree ignored the massive cat circling his legs and rifled through the cabinet.  There was aspirin but no anti-histamine of any description.  Dree stalked over to the television and turned it on.  The reception sucked.  He turned it back off and flopped down on the couch.  Majestic laid down on Dree's lap and began to wash himself with vigor.  Honey was snoozing on the bed. There wouldn't be any hot steamy sex that night.  Dree heard the tap, tap, tapping on the roof.  Outside, it had begun to rain. 

                                   ~ to be continued ~   

Friday, July 12, 2013

An Interlude with Trolls

To the copyright conglomerates, I took the pictures.  I did the art work.  I didn't create the font but the font was a legal inclusion in my legally gotten digital art software. 

To everyone else, right-click to save to your computer if you want any of them.  No hot-linking. 

sapphoq n troll friends

Sunday, July 07, 2013

What is this Friend Thing You Speak Of

I am your friend.  But I cannot promise you forever.  Forever is way too long.  I will not lie.  Sometimes I will do things that you don't like.  Sometimes I will make decisions that you wouldn't have made.  Sometimes I will take care of myself rather than hang out with you.  I will not take care of you.

Taking care of you doesn't have the appeal for me that it used to have.  We cannot rescue each other.  That is not reality.  I will not want something for you more than you want it for yourself.  We are not children play-acting at house and chosen family routines.  We are not teens learning how to separate from our parents and from each other.  Because we are adults, there is no taking care of in this relationship.

I have my limitations.  There are times when by necessity I will disappoint you.  Life is like that.  I certainly will walk away before allowing you or anyone else to clip my wings.  I am my own free agent.  You are yours.  I am responsible for me and you are responsible for you.  I cannot fix things for you.  I've had to investigate what things bound me and what things freed me.  I will not do that work for you.  It is the highest insult to you were I to do so.

I am not good at indirectness or at interpreting your facial expressions or your acting out.  Use language and words or you will lose me.  If you want me to know something, tell me.  Preferably face-to-face but on the telephone at the very least.  Don't bother writing me notes about what upsets you.  We are not in high school.  I never understood that sort of thing when I was.  I don't get it now.

I am good at having fun.  We can go places together, pal around, explore the woods, sit in the backyard, hang out at the mall.  I'm game for most anything.  I am also good at silence.  Sometimes I may not want to talk much.  I am an observer.  I study.  Chattering is useless and irritating.  I am not afraid of the quiet.  I hope you aren't either.

I am your friend for the moment.  For however long we are here in the same space, let us enjoy each other.

sapphoq n friends