Mojo: Chapter Two: Brethren

My worker bee picked me up early in the morning and brought me down to the spca adoption center with the hopes of picking out a pet....

"You wont be taking one home today, today is just to look, to shop..."

As if picking a friend could be that easy, just go in and shop around for a while, get a FEEL for them. 

My heart twisted in knots as I stepped through the door, animals all of them, caged and wild eyed with anxiety or docile with jaded acceptance.  Every one of them desperately needing a home, some one to take them into there arms and love them and care for them. 

I don't know why I put myself through this... Going into animal shelters and pet stores and even going as far as to peruse the pet section of craigslist.  Kills me EVERY TIME.

Towards the back there sat a squat cage on a small platform, and inside where four young cats, all of them solid black.  Most of them came up to the cage walls and peered out, but far in the back one simply rested, the runt of the little with a small paper tag like a hospital bracelet reading "Mopsy".  As I approached her side of the cage she lifted her eyes to mine and what I saw melted me to the core.  Mopsy was not only the runt, but one of a litter of kittens that had come under horrible abuse.  She had gotten the worse of it, patches of hair had had to be shaved off around her under arms, her ears with thick with black gunk from ear-mites, and her left eye shone solid white with cataract.

"From an injury" the young female staff member said, and wouldn't tell me any more. 

When I extended my fingers to the cage she rubbed the side of her face lovingly against them and looked out at me, squinting and staring with that one good eye.  She had seen the wars, been through the ringer, been through hell and back, took a licken and kept on ticken.  Mopsy was world weary at the tender age of two, young even for a cat.  But something in the way she looked at me prompted me to ask that she be removed from her cage and brought to a small adjacent room for me to socialize with her. 

As she was lifted from her cage, she did not protest, simply went limp and allowed herself to be carried, though her eyes told a different story.  The good eye bloomed wide with terror and distrust of the woman who now held her and carried her along.  Her claws gripped her shirt as if expecting any moment to be tossed at the nearest wall. 

One in the room Mopsy was placed on the floor and saw me enter.  She starred up and me with that single eye and again her lids drifted into a mellow and relaxed squint.  A moment latter she rolled onto her back exposing her belly to me.  I got down on my haunches and stroked the fur there.  It was soft, like the inside of expensive slippers.  She purred with reckless abandon and again rubbed her face along my wrist and hand, marking me with her scent.  I decided right then and there that Mopsy would be my kitty, that the following day I would return for her, to take her home and into my humble home, and far more humble life...

Day of a Thousand Nights: Part Three: High Fashion

I arrived at fashion square mall to find gabe sitting quite awkwardly sandwiched between to people waiting for the bus near the smokers outpost in front of fashion square mall.  I could see him from the window as we made our approached and upon recognizing my handsome, rugged, and epically bearded face peering down at him he cracked a smile and waved.  Exiting the bus I met him half way between the ring of smokers and the stop, and immediately explained my plight.

"We need to GO IN, Gabe, I need to get change for you to ride back to my place."

You see, Gabe does NOT have a super convenient and super easy ada para-transit card as I do, allowing me to ride any bus in Charlottesville free of fair, and is still required to pay a pittance of seventy five cents for a single ride and a dollar fifty for a day pass. 

This required us to enter the archipelago of shops, high ceilings, skylights, and cheap chinese food that is... FASHION SQUARE MALL.  We of course bee-lined towards Gamestop and proceeded to browse, using the familiar atmosphere of cellophane wrapped video games as a cocoon protecting us from the surrounding hordes of mindless brain-dead slaves to consumerism that flock to fashion square on a daily basis, seeking the ever elusive "deal".

Stream of Consciousness July 18th, 2012

Days are drifting in and out of each other like erotic clouds.  the company of my friend gabe has become near stifling as he has found in necessary to be here far more often than I care for...  and every day moves one belt notch closer to August 27th, where my classes begin and the long summer of my young adult life ends.

I memorized the lyrics to popular and not-so-popular comercials, not intentionally just by sheer exposure.  you shouldn't let your money go out the window, on that we can all agree.  call 1-800-Next Window, and you will clearly see.  We are the window authority, we've got the best prices and design (for example...) any size white double hung window installed for $189.  Window World, simply the best for less...

I guess this might come in handy one day, say if I even need new windows.

She cut the umbilicus, for a while at least, again with dates... EXACT dates, august 27th.   prom...

I spout ellipses like and epileptic typewriter...

She sells sea shells down by the sea shore.  I needed help, and now I have none, thanks to one nights worth of drunken "indiscretion".  Every day around five thirty, six o-clock, i wonder why I didn't call the financial aide office, wonder why I'm neither excited nor scared of whats going to happen next month, wonder in an almost detached way if anyone will even notice when the time comes and I log into my psyche class for the first time.

Black witches robes made out of fleece,  colleen asked me a pretty decent question: why fleece?

Its comfortable, I told her, It's like wearing a big yummy sock.

She asked me how it is that I've survived this long...

A witch in yummy fleece robes, with a woman's romantic sentiments and a man's lack of hygiene.

I've taken up drinking with Gabe, when we can spare a little money for a cheap twelve pack.  He drinks natural light, so that's whats been on the menu.  Being drunk on cheap beer has its thrills I suppose...
I feel like a puppet in and old timey ye olden puppet show, like some one should be bopping me on the head with an over-sized plush club and shouting silly things at me.  It tastes foul, its all I can do just to keep from gagging on it, but once I get a few in me my head floods with pleasant fogginess and everything goes a bit numb.  my dad would be so proud...