I’m not supposed to tell stories about THAT Girl. “Look, Asshole” she says “knock it off with the stories. They f#ck my sh#t up.” I don’t want to f#ck her sh#t up. So I’ll almost tell a story….
I’m just inside the doorway at The Happiest Place on Earth. I’m a little taken aback, on account of the micro-shard remnants of the shattered veneers of faux affection that are sticking in my paws (I briefly wonder why no-one has cleaned them up, but I come to the conclusion that I’m probably the only one sensitive enough to notice them). It throws me for a moment - for the first time at this remarkable place, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.
In my paralysis, I find myself reminiscing. Specifically, I remember how it used to be when I would come in. Ok, more like “burst” in. I would see Ms. Puddles turn the corner at the far end of the hallway. We had developed an efficient “hand signal” system back then… I’d hold up a number of claws, representing the number of times I would like to see her boss that day. She would respond in one of two ways… if she was annoyed with her employer and I wasn’t too greedy in my request, she would give me a “thumbs up”… but more than likely, she would just “flip up” another finger… Which of course leads to remembering what came after Ms. Puddles’ decisions… and without a doubt, the “thumbs up” days were always the bestest!
Even though my nostrils are no longer filled with the sweet scent of baked banana, it is quite obvious that this place is still the Elite of the Treats Dispensaries.
There isn’t much time to reminisce, though, because in the New Way, THAT Girl is waiting for me at the door (a predictable consequence of having to unlock the door and let me in and all).
Ok. Now let's be clear: it’s not that I don’t remember how beautiful she is… petite, womanly, golden shoulder-length hair, the brightest eyes, and a devastating smile that can kill coherent thought at a hundred yards... but as always, I’m not prepared for it. She’s so beautiful that you can’t look at her. She’s so beautiful that you can’t look away. “Next time”, I say to myself, “you BRING the #14 welder’s glass, rabbit”… but for now, all I can do right now is to look a little to the side, and take it all in peripherally.
She moves close very quickly; far too quickly for me to recite the new “rules of engagement” that I’d been rehearsing for three days now. Wouldn’t have mattered, though - it was pretty obvious she was still working under the old “I do what I want” condition we had come to agreement on long ago. And she had no interest in renegotiation.
I briefly wonder what that "want" would be today... and how she would go about taking it. No cigar smoke, rum, or chicken blood; so that ruled out some of the more controversial practices. No, I guess she was feeling nostalgic herself, deciding to go back to the basics tonight. She’s now “all up on me”, and I can already feel the spell taking effect. As I suspected, she’s chosen to use the powerful stuff… the Olde Majik... and her charm of choice is Kindness. I have no defences left for this… she’s taken them all away, and she knows it. And even though I have still managed to miraculously keep them to the visual periphery, those brightest eyes are unmistakably letting me know that this is going to be a marvellous and memorable evening for me. Closer still (and I’m not even sure how that was possible), her sweet breath tickles my whiskers, and at the very moment that she gets the capitulation she’s been looking for from me, she whispers… “Hi.”
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Without a doubt, still the Happiest Place on Earth.
Happy thumping, all!
I’m just inside the doorway at The Happiest Place on Earth. I’m a little taken aback, on account of the micro-shard remnants of the shattered veneers of faux affection that are sticking in my paws (I briefly wonder why no-one has cleaned them up, but I come to the conclusion that I’m probably the only one sensitive enough to notice them). It throws me for a moment - for the first time at this remarkable place, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.
In my paralysis, I find myself reminiscing. Specifically, I remember how it used to be when I would come in. Ok, more like “burst” in. I would see Ms. Puddles turn the corner at the far end of the hallway. We had developed an efficient “hand signal” system back then… I’d hold up a number of claws, representing the number of times I would like to see her boss that day. She would respond in one of two ways… if she was annoyed with her employer and I wasn’t too greedy in my request, she would give me a “thumbs up”… but more than likely, she would just “flip up” another finger…
Which of course leads to remembering what came after Ms. Puddles’ decisions… and without a doubt, the “thumbs up” days were always the bestest! Even though my nostrils are no longer filled with the sweet scent of baked banana, it is quite obvious that this place is still the Elite of the Treats Dispensaries.
There isn’t much time to reminisce, though, because in the New Way, THAT Girl is waiting for me at the door (a predictable consequence of having to unlock the door and let me in and all).
Ok. Now let's be clear: it’s not that I don’t remember how beautiful she is… petite, womanly, golden shoulder-length hair, the brightest eyes, and a devastating smile that can kill coherent thought at a hundred yards... but as always, I’m not prepared for it. She’s so beautiful that you can’t look at her. She’s so beautiful that you can’t look away. “Next time”, I say to myself, “you BRING the #14 welder’s glass, rabbit”… but for now, all I can do right now is to look a little to the side, and take it all in peripherally.
She moves close very quickly; far too quickly for me to recite the new “rules of engagement” that I’d been rehearsing for three days now. Wouldn’t have mattered, though - it was pretty obvious she was still working under the old “I do what I want” condition we had come to agreement on long ago. And she had no interest in renegotiation.
I briefly wonder what that "want" would be today... and how she would go about taking it. No cigar smoke, rum, or chicken blood; so that ruled out some of the more controversial practices. No, I guess she was feeling nostalgic herself, deciding to go back to the basics tonight. She’s now “all up on me”, and I can already feel the spell taking effect. As I suspected, she’s chosen to use the powerful stuff… the Olde Majik... and her charm of choice is Kindness. I have no defences left for this… she’s taken them all away, and she knows it. And even though I have still managed to miraculously keep them to the visual periphery, those brightest eyes are unmistakably letting me know that this is going to be a marvellous and memorable evening for me. Closer still (and I’m not even sure how that was possible), her sweet breath tickles my whiskers, and at the very moment that she gets the capitulation she’s been looking for from me, she whispers… “Hi.”
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Without a doubt, still the Happiest Place on Earth.
Happy thumping, all!
