Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“Cats don’t strike out without cause,” Ms. Lane instructs. “You must have done something.”
“Ms. Lane, don’t ask,” Tillie whispers, but it’s already too late, the Simpson brothers are already continuing with their story.
“We were trying to neuter him.”
“What?” Ms. Lane asks, clearly appalled.
“Don’t sound so uppity about it. This was like fifty years ago. We lived up in the mountains then and the nearest town was just a hole in the wall and the nearest animal doctor was a good two-day drive. We became the neighborhood vets,” Homer mutters.
“Without a license,” Ms. Lane adds quietly and Homer waves her off like she’s a nuisance.
“The point is we did a lot of neutering back then,” Homer says.
“Sure did,” Henry adds.
“Heck, if we hadn’t, the town would have been known as Pussy Ridge,” Homer adds, clapping his knee like he just told the best joke in the world.
“Mr. Simpson!” Ms. Lane cries.
“He’s telling the truth. They talk about rabbits reproducing, but cats are worse. You start with one pregnant female, and it won’t take six months before a man is swimming in pussy,” Henry adds.
His brother Homer nods and then tilts his head like he’s about to say something confidential and not practically screaming it out in the middle of a diner to a captive, slightly amused—if not plain horrified—audience. “Let me tell you, that sounds like a lot more fun than it is.”
“Henry, can I ask how one goes about neutering a cat?” Brenda asks.
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Henry says. “It brings back bad memories.”
“It does?”
“The last one we did is how he lost his finger,” Homer supplies. Henry holds up his right index finger and wiggles it, showing he’s missing the top part of his finger—just above the knuckle.
“A cat took your finger?” Tillie gasps
“Dangles did,” Henry admits. “Wasn’t his fault really. Homer messed up.”
“You’ve always blamed me. It’s your fault. I told you to put him between your legs.”
“I was trying,” Henry growls at his brother. “Dangles was just too wiggly. I put him between my legs for the actual deed.”
“Deed? What exactly happened?” Brenda questions, sitting down in the chair beside Tillie.
Jesus. This is part of smalltown living that I didn’t miss.
“Well, we caught Dangles easily enough. That cat always did come running if you had a piece of cheese nearby. Then, Homer got out the wool sock.”
“Wool sock?” Ms. Lane asks, showing she’s listening too.
“Yeah, I keep them for the winter. My feet get cold. Always did really, but it’s worse in the winter. Still, you want wool socks. The thick ones like that will keep you from losing a finger—unless you’re stupid and forget and put your hand in the wrong place.”
“Homer, damn it! It could have happened to anyone.”
“I didn’t know cats could bite hard enough to eat part of a finger,” Brenda murmurs.
“Well, he didn’t. The bite got infected to the point it had to be stopped,” Homer explains, waving the comment off because he’s intent on telling his story. The old geezer always did like being the center of attention. “Anyway, Henry held the sock open and I stuffed old dangles into it headfirst.”
“Headfirst?” Brenda squeaks. It should be said that Brenda is a big cat lover. She has like ten and every single one of them is spoiled. Mace, the owner of the diner, is not a cat lover. He personally uses duct tape to her clothes to relieve her of cat hair before she is allowed to work. She’s tried to get him to use a lint roller and says she gets the hair off before she even comes to work, but he ignores her. I honestly think he does it because he likes to. I haven’t lived here in six years or so and nothing has changed on that front. I personally think he’d claim her and move her in if it wasn’t for the cats. My gaze moves to Tillie. I’m not a big cat person, but I think I’d even put up with them if it kept her in my bed every night.
“You did not!” Ms. Lane cries and I realize I’ve ignored the conversation around me to think about Tillie in my bed every night. Fuck, I’ve got it bad.
“What? That’s just the way it’s done. You lock their head between your legs and then hold their hindquarters up, spreading their legs really wide,” Henry says.
“Yeah, you need to spread them wide,” He gives Brenda a wink before adding. “You basically spread the legs wider than a two-dollar hooker would on Navy leave week,” Homer adds.
Tillie starts laughing while Ms. Lane gasps, “Oh. My. God.” She draws out the words like she can’t believe it.
“That’s why I had to put his head between my legs. Cats wiggle a lot when they’re in that sock,” Henry explains.
“Oh. My. God,” Ms. Lane says again, her face pale with obvious shock.