Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Wednesday Briefs - Trouble Comes in Threes 2.3

Welcome to the Wednesday Briefs flash group (click to go to the site). The short stories have a maximum of a 1000 word count plus links at the bottom to the other flashers. This week's prompts are:  
"Say what?" 
"I’ll do my best." 
"Money burns a hole in your pocket." 
"Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may diet." 
"Like a fish out of water." 
"The deepest waters make the least noise." 
or use: stomach, claws, blanket 
or have a character crying 
or feature a leaky faucet 
or use: glasses, a safe, hangers 
"You are so shallow."
Use a flamethrower
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“The whole kitchen is flooded with dough. You’re not allowed to use yeast ever again.”
“Well, that does it. I’m a vegetarian now.

Trouble Comes in Threes 2.3

“Okay, okay, okay.” I held out my hands—like that would stop the room from tilting—and snickered. “Okay. Think it’s time to go to bed.”
A quick glance at the fire showed me it had burned down. Good, I didn’t have to worry with that. Putting both hands on the couch, I pushed myself up. Which would have worked perfectly fine if my left hand hadn’t slid off the couch. Huh. Had my hand actually been on the couch? It damn sure wasn’t now. Maybe that was why I was listing to the side with my elbow crammed into the other couch cushion. Instead of standing, I nearly ended up on the floor… a floor that had rushed up to meet me suddenly.
Off-balance and still giggling, I pointed at the misbehaving floor as I straightened myself. “Look, you just stay right the hell there. No more of this jumping around. Got it?”
Damn thing was still moving. I groaned. It really needed to stop. My stomach rolled nastily, and oh, fuck me, that wasn’t good. If I could just get my ass to the bedroom, everything would be all right. I slapped my hand back on the couch, checked to see that my hand actually was on the couch, then lurched up… only to drop right back down. That was odd. My knees weren’t working. All they did was wobble. Maybe they were numb? Asleep? 
I wished I were asleep.
A white blob nudged me. Eyes narrowed, I stared at it. And stared at it. And stared at it. Finally, my blurry vision cleared enough for me to tell the blob was a white cat. Huh. A white cat? What the hell? The blob—I mean the cat—nudged me again, meowing non-stop, tail slashing through the air. Wow, it sure liked to talk. How did it get in here? Oh yeah, it ran inside earlier. Poor kitty had to be cold out there in all that snow. It sure blended well with all that whiteness, though. Huh, I wondered what that had to do with cold snow. I guess it didn’t matter, I had a cat now.
What the hell was I going to do with a cat? Wait a minute. I looked around. Didn’t I have two of the little buggers? Yeah! A totally black one. That fucker intimidated me. The damn thing had a freaking strong personality. Wasn’t that a cat thing though? Strong personalities? Being independent?
And speak of the devil, there he was, just sitting on the floor, examining me with those eerie blue eyes.
“Yup, I know. I’m fuckin’ drunk.”
How freaking cool would it be to speak cat? Did they think like us? Have feelings like us? Morals? Or did they just care about eating, sleeping, and killing something? Did they like being in the house, or would they rather be outside? Snorting, I glanced out the window. Nothing wanted to be outside right now.
Snowball jumped in my lap, put both paws on my chest, and meowed in my face. “Whoa, dude, tuna breath.”
I waved my hand in front of me, wrinkling my nose and fighting the urge to gag. Snowball eyed my hand, and thank God my alcohol-soaked brain caught a clue and stopped with the all the waving before he pounced. Snowball leaned closer and rubbed his face against my chin. Damn, that tickled. When he stopped, I scrubbed my hand over my face, feeling stubble. Why had he done that? And thank God I hadn’t gotten hair in my mouth. I giggled at that—I so wasn’t going there. Then tears flooded my eyes when I realized just how long it had been since I went there. Whoa, dramatic mood swing. Gotta love alcohol.
Snowball’s purring caught my attention, and I rubbed a hand down his back, tears forgotten. He arched into my touch. Nice. Nothing but soft fur and sleek muscles. And weight. Man, he was heavy leaning against my chest. I ran my hand down his back again. Yup, someone had been taking care of him. He not only looked good, he was very friendly.
Tiger joined us on the couch, kneading my thigh. I flinched from the sharp prick of his nails through my denim. Those were some heavy-duty claws. I really needed to get up, but the effort was too much. I just wanted to sleep. I yawned, then yawned again, my eyes watering. Snowball jumped down. Guess my breath didn’t smell any better than his. That brought on more giggles, followed by another round of yawns.
My plan to get shit-faced was a success. I was really drunk.
Well hell, fuck going to bed, I’d just crash here. I kicked off my shoes and undid my jeans. There was a blanket bunched up at the end of the couch, and I lunged at it several times before finally getting hold of it. What had possessed me to buy such a long assed couch?
“Finally!” I flopped down and pulled the blanket over me.
I closed my eyes, the room lazily spinning, some ass on TV blathering on. Damn, I wish it would stop…. The spinning or talking, take your pick. Rolling to my side seemed to help. Sighing with relief, I relaxed, willing myself to fall asleep before the room started rotating again. The thud of something landing next to me disrupted my desperate fall into sleep. I cracked open an eye… to see Tiger making himself comfortable next to me, tail languidly moving.
“‘Night,” I whispered. “Where’s Snowball?”
Purring drifted down from the back of the couch. I turned my head toward the sound. “‘Night to you too.”