Effing Feline hates furballs #wewriwa

Photos: DepositPhotos

I, Effing Feline, dislike furballs. Why do I tell you this now? Because in North America, we have a long weekend for two different holidays. Labour Day and Labor Day.

Ed, my pet human bought steaks for the first time forever with the intention of grilling them outside. I don’t like that. The grill gets too hot, and I’m wearing a fur coat. Anyway, the only real celebration I’m aware of is eating and overeating.

What does that have to do with furballs? I’ll tell you after this commercial from my sponsor, The Saint of Gilford Island.

Janet learned of her husband’s infidelity right after a speech about Gilford’s creative madmen that he gave to Janet’s charity club. Kendo’s selfless dedication to helping the quarantined unfortunates had inspired a television show that dubbed him the Saint of Gilford Island.

The infidelity, the speech, awe at being in the presence of a saint, and an overwhelming sense of loss befuddles her. After spilling something in his lap, she has no idea what to do. So she follows him to his room.

He got her a bottle of water from his room’s minifridge to rinse away the taste. Scotch might’ve been more appropriate—that was what Franklin would’ve offered. The innocuous bottle in her hand was more evidence this man was a saint.

While he changed in his washroom, she stood by the dresser. Why? She should apologize again then leave. He couldn’t want her around. What she’d done to him was beneath contempt, even though he hadn’t said a word of censure.

He came out wearing jeans and t-shirt with an unfamiliar First Nations design; from Canada, she supposed.

He noticed she hadn’t opened the water bottle, so he opened it for her. As she washed away the vile aftertaste, he asked if there was anything else he could do for her.

A wee bit more to finish the scene:

“No, thank you.”

He asked her what she was going to do. She had a hard time concentrating on his .

“I don’t know. Kill Franklin?”

He took her seriously and protested, so she laughed. It was more of a choked bark, actually.

Effing Feline here again. Consider yourself warned: if you overeat, you’re tummy will get the human equivalent of a furball!

Be sure to visit the other great writers in Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

The Saint of Quarantine Island

Maybe you’ve read about viruses that turn people into zombies. But how about a virus that turns people into madmen, some of whom become creative geniuses?

Spurred by her husband’s infidelity and haunted by abandoned aspirations, a suburban housewife smuggles herself into a wilderness quarantine. By catching the disease, she hopes to write a book that’ll redeem her empty life — and maybe, just maybe, she’ll find love with the man they call the Saint of Gilford Island. She’d once spent a memorable though oddly chaste night with him. Surely he’ll help her build a new life.

But exile on an island of madmen is crueler than any suburban daydream. Instead of a quiet writing retreat, she finds pirates who steal everything but the clothes on her back … an arrogant Cambridge scientist who wants to whisk her away to the London of an alternate Earth … a troubled Indian boy who becomes a surrogate son … a licentious cult leader who kidnaps her.

They’re all periodically insane then sane and back again – and so will she be, if she catches the Fireworks virus. Is writing a book really worth such a risk?

What about true love?



  1. Author Jessica E. Subject · · Reply

    I’ll drink lots of water, and do my best to avoid getting a furball this weekend. Have a great long weekend!

    1. That sounds like a wise plan, Jessica. If you need help getting the furball up, though, Effing may be able to help.

  2. I thought furballs were felines’ gifts to humans….

    1. Lisabet, I think your cats have brainwashed you!

  3. He sounds like a saint indeed. nice snippet.

    1. He would NOT be happy to hear you say that. The word ‘saint’ is a weight on his chest that is gradually suffocating him.

      1. Ok – I’ll keep that in mind for future comments 😉

  4. nancygideon · · Reply

    Her husband us failing miserably in this comparison! I, too, will be grilling in honor of the long weekend and my cats are very supportive of the idea, especially when steak is involved.

    1. Your comment implies that your feed your cats steak. And here I thought you were a rational person!

  5. We too are grilling steak and chicken tomorrow, with lots of sides. I will however take Effing’s advice to heart and try to not overdo it. 🙂 Something tells me this saint isn’t quite as saintly as his reputation proclaims. Great snippet!

    1. A television documentary branded him the Saint of Gilford Island. He neither wants the title or feels he deserves the title.

  6. She seems to be enthralled or mesmerized by him. Good thing he’s a saint!

    1. A television documentary branded him the Saint of Gilford Island. He neither wants the title or feels he deserves the title.But is he really?

  7. The more we learn about this “saint,” the more I think he’s actually a sleezeball. I hope she comes to this realization too.

    1. Anonymous · · Reply

      Sleezeball? Well, that’s pretty far from a saint.

    2. Sleezeball? That’s is indeed pretty far from being a saint.

  8. You present her confusion very clearly in the snippet. she’s definitely befuddled! I have no idea which way the action is going next, which is a good thing because obviously I must keep reading LOL. Well done snippet!

    1. She doesn’t know where it’s leading either, so you’re in good company.

  9. I agree with Veronica. Excellent job writing her confusion, her quirks, her idiosyncrasy. 🙂 She really gets sort of star-struck in this scene.

    Thanks for the heads-up, Effing, about the furballs. I’ll be sure to drink plenty of water. 🙂

  10. Star struck and numb from finding out about her husband’s infidelity.

  11. Cara Hartley · · Reply

    Sorry if this is a duplicate comment. Grr…
    I haven’t overeaten in a long time, Effin. Not because I don’t like eating, but because I’m too old and tired and have too many health problems. I don’t like hairballs either. My cats sometimes leave them lying around.
    The saint certainly is a solicitous chap.
    ~Cie from Naughty Netherworld Press~

    1. Sorry to hear about the health problems. I’ve pretty much given up overeating, too. I’ve actually lost weight during the lockdown.

  12. Coming in = in the middle here. Problem of being away for a while, but the “kill Franklin” line got my attention.

    1. Yeah, that’s a killer line.

  13. He sounds like a real saint. Love how she seems a bit in awe of him. 🙂

    1. Thanks for stopping by, Karen.

  14. Great snippet. I can relate to the numbness she felt. Well written. And Effing, at least it’s better than your eight cans of salmon experience not too long ago. And we are grilling ribs and sausage here in a bit. Happy Labor and Labour Day all!!

  15. Cathy Brockman · · Reply

    Enjoy your steak!

    1. It was the first steak I’ve had in a year or more. Tasted good.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: