First thing’s shaving. Careful on the snout.
I know, but it grows back thinner, I swear. Those creams cause rashes and split ends.
Where’s your collar? You don’t want to get put down as a stray, do you?
Here, try mine. You love rhinestones.
Well, you used to. Oh, and remember to chew thoroughly. That story about Grandma and Little Red Lupicide, that’s a real thing.
I know you know, but I want you to say it.
Thank you.
Wow. Just last moon you were my little cub. Pretty soon you’ll be the alpha.
Now run along before I cry.
Research into the sleeping habits of felines has revealed what cat owners intuitively know: if your cat sleeps in your bed, your comfort is a secondary consideration—if it’s a consideration at all. The five most popular feline sleeping styles are as follows:
The Sprawler: Takes up more of the bed than should be physically possible. Defends their territory with claws or teeth.
The Too-Cute-To-Move-Er: Similar to the Sprawler, but asserts their territorial claim through cuteness, which makes disturbing them unthinkable.
The Inconvenience Maximizer: After you have fallen asleep, the Inconvenience Maximizer settles themselves between your knees when you’re sleeping on your back or in the crook of your bent legs when you sleep on your side. Upon waking up with aching muscles from being in the same position too long, many cat owners will endure intense discomfort rather than disturbing their pet.
The Pillow Hogger: Claims the pillow as their sleeping space and dares you to argue. In these cases, it’s usually best to retreat to the couch or a guest bedroom unless you fancy a trip to the Emergency Department for stitches.
The Lullaby Singer: Lulls you to sleep with rhythmic purring, the combination of sound and vibration being a surefire cure for insomnia. Don’t be fooled. Singing a feline lullaby is a calculated ploy so the cat can gain permission to sleep in the bed. In the course of the night, the Lullaby Singer often morphs into the Too-Cute-To-Move-Er or the Inconvenience Maximizer.
Lisa Timpf’s speculative writing has appeared in Lorelei Signal, NewMyths.com, Polar Borealis, and other venues.
You never leave
the fringes of my mind
Just there on the peripheral edge
looking at me like that
Distractingly beautiful
but you prefer people
say your funny
He glared at the tattoo. A snake slithering across his daughter’s shoulder in wide Cs. It blotted out the freckles forged during all those summers on their boat; brown constellations he’d helped hang.
Apparently, it was a reminder to be brave. Bullshit. His girl once chased off older kids trying to TP the house. She’d cussed him out when he enforced curfew. She’d left that husband of hers he never liked.
She shouldn’t need ink to remind her what she already was. But there it sat, fangs dripping, daring him to disapprove. Which, he realized, was exactly why he loved it.
Dark, without despair.
A touch of milk makes her fair.
Americano.
The coffee tasted normal. Dark chocolate, earth, a hint of oak. Hot, but not scalding. Nothing special about it.
I sipped from the cup: the typical unbreakable ceramic mug found at diners across the country.
“What kind of coffee is this?” I asked the waitress behind the counter.
“Special blend,” she replied.
I looked at my hands. When did they become translucent?
By the third sip, I could see the living patrons. There were only three of them. The rest of us—the waitress, the cook, the dozen others—we’d been dead for years.
Still serving. Still drinking. Still waiting.
In one galactic zhwoop, Battalion 72’s entities beamed and shrunk into coffee beans.
Situated along the equator, the warmth and ruby coffee fruit reminded us of our own breeding pods.
We laughed at Battalion 45’s failure, trapped in the novelty Mexican jumping beans.
Coffee beans were the perfect conduit. Every forsaken human on this planet consumes coffee, and once established inside the humans, we would seize control of Earth using their gangly bodies.
✱
The temperature rises now. Sweat has long since evaporated. The overwhelming heat comes for my consciousness. I’m roasting.
We advise the next battalion to commandeer cocoa beans.