I, Effing Feline, was annoyed when my pet human, Ed Hoornaert (aka Mr Valentine) said I needed a hobby so I didn’t just lie around all day (even though that’s what cats are supposed to do). He enrolled me in art lessons at Parks and Recreations, and it’s actually okay. I dip my tail in paint, slap down a quick picture … and then go curl in Mr V’s lap without cleaning my tail. Heh, heh, heh.
Once again, today’s snippet is from Future Love, an upcoming collection of short stories, and the story is Thimbleriggers, in which a crook invents a new form of pornography — with unintended consequences. The crook, Aldous, asks his aged subject whether she’s selling her sexy memories because she’s an exhibitionist. She says no.
“Then why you doing it? Nah, don’t bother answering — just sign the releases and let’s get started.”
“It’s my husband.”
Aldous jerked around, but no axe-wielding geezer doddered into the tiny room.
“He’s in University Research Hospital,” Kathleen said. “He must never find out about this.”
“Hey, my padre’s a large-sarge doctor at URH. Let me guess, you couldn’t afford the expensive new procedure Hubby needs, so Dad’s buddies froze him in medical stasis until you have the cash.” When she nodded, Aldous chuckled. “Dad would crap his scrubs if he knew him and me were tag teaming.”