Are there men in my bed?

Three times now I've woken under warmth and weight. Three times I've rolled into an intoxicating cloud of something or other pour homme. A different beautiful complex scent each time.

This has got to stop because its doing my head in. There are no men in my bed, only ghosts and memories. The smell, the warmth, the weight, its the cat sleeping on top of me. A cat that has, in a strange twist of events developed the skill of carrying the scent of a man long after he puts her back on the floor. Men that are friends and guests of my housemates.

She is the evil cat of torment. She is the evil cat that whispers loneliness into my heart while I sleep. She is the only creature on this planet willing to crawl under the covers with me so I might not kick her out, just yet.

Comments

NWJR said…
That's the most compelling post I've read in days, and I don't know why.
DS said…
Thanks, I think.
Anonymous said…
Dale,

Ocarina was great, looking forward to the next edition. The outlay suited the text perfectly, but don't kick the cat out!

Rups :)
DS said…
Fangks for the feedback on Ocarina. I think The Spatula did a marvelous job with the layout and pictures, just marvelous.

Cat definitely staying put indefinitely and when cat dies will replace with new cat to keep complete isolation and loneliness at bay. In this way I can buy love, take that Beatles.