Was I the one snoring, or was it someone else? I woke up to listen, but still couldn’t tell. Was I the one snoring, or was it someone else?

I went in the bathroom, to look in the mirror, and the trashcan left on jiggly legs. We haven’t been talking since I put those things in it, and I admit, nothing should have those things put in it, but they must be put somewhere, they can’t be left lying out.

I looked in the mirror, and it wasn’t my face snoring. I put a hand mirror behind my back so what it reflected would reflect in the bigger mirror, and I saw it was my spine that was snoring. A bubble of snot sticking out my spine’s nose.

I was going to tap it awake, but a shadow outside told me it was morning, or near enough, and I was awake, no going back, so I best make myself coffee and begin the day. My spine could sleep for both of us.

I set the coffee going, and saw my cat. It was my cat that was snoring, great black rumblers that shook the floor. I’d thought so. But wasn’t it my spine that was snoring?

My cat was my spine. My hair fluffed, it meowed, and I washed my hand my with my ginger tongue. I washed my hand with ginger, and ate the ginger, with a raw onion. And my hand, baked in a 9 by 13 glass tray, with mustard sauce. Actually, feet, I prefer feet for that. The pads are tender. The cat sniffed them, and I was so happy he’d stopped being my spine. After I ate my feet I put them on again, and they were new.

The coffee was brown, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Fresh squeezed bacon and buttermilk pancakes.

My girlfriend came down, and she was beautiful, I hadn’t known I had a girlfriend, and it was wonderful, except she wasn’t my girlfriend, she was a girl I barely knew who’d spent the night on my couch, because reasons, and I’d made breakfast for two.

I gave her coffee. She sipped it, kissed me, then hit me with the coffee mug, because I was inadequate, so I sat on my kitchen tile, bleeding and accepting. These things happen, nothing be done. That was too sad, so she was another girl, smarter and gentler, if not so sexy, and we talked civilizedly, and played chess, and I knew how to play, but she beat me anyway.

I said I’d make lunch in a few hours, but she left. Forlorn, my cat let me know I always had him when he felt like it, and I agreed that was true, and he was purring, rumble rumble against my spine.


3 thoughts on “Scape

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