and assortment of play things at the Gossip superstore. Since I worked for Gossip Magazine I was considered some sort of store appointed affiliate so I receive a discount. That piled on with my many coupons made the popular store very affordable for all my cat needs. Back to the pet shop. So I waited by the pet adoption center near the front of the building. Chris quickly arrived with not a few perfectly polished pusses, but all eighteen. He had a three tier stroller that held what looked like eight of his cats, and had the remaining seven on leashes, like dogs. I have to admit it was overwhelming. Besides from his cats he was dressed in a peculiar outfit that appeared to be made out of cat hair. No, not just any cat hair, his cat's hair.
We greeted and I complimented him on his collection and outfit. He informed me that yes, in fact, this was a handmade outfit consisting entirely of his cat's hair. See, this is crazy people. This is what crazy looks like, not me but him. We then proceeded to mossy about the air conditioned store only to talk of his cats, not mine. Only his. He goes on to tell me their price, their blood lines, their ancestors, their sleeping habits etcetera. Chris seems obsessed with rearranging his cats because apparently they all want to ride in the cart. So, in order to keep the fighting to a minimum, he keeps switching them around. At one point he told me I had to hold two of his fattest cats or all hell would break loose. The cats didn't act like they minded, it was Chris who went into screaming fits in the store because he said the cats were fighting. He rattles on for a good hour, screaming every so often, before I make up an excuse to leave. I love cats, but this is excessive!
Chapter thirty one
I think sometimes, well a lot of times, people over share the most disturbing things. I ask people questions and I am often delighted when they add extra little details about their lives. However, John took it to another level. We met in the drugstore parking lot. His idea, not mine, but who am I to judge.
"I'm sorry. This is just a lot of information." I stammer. I am hopping from one foot to the next trying to stay warm. Meeting in the drugstore parking lot was a bad idea. I am really cold.
"I want to know what your take on this is." John asks, appearing to be concerned. He doesn't appear affected by the temperature and is sporting shorts and a t shirt.
"Well, things are often not what they appear." I say shuffling my feet.
"She abandoned me." John cries.
"I understand how you feel." I lie blowing into my hands.
"Do you? Did your own mother abandon you to a psych ward?" He asks.
"No, she... she didn't." I answer honestly rubbing the goose bumps on my arms.
"See, she loves you. My mother does not love me. The first time I set her bed on fire and she sends me away!" He exclaims.
"I'm sorry." I respond. Did he just say he set his own mother's bed on fire? What is wrong with him? Better yet, what's wrong with me? I mean really, these are the people that I actually meet. This kind of makes me wonder why we are meeting in a drug store parking lot.
"It wasn't like she actually was in the bed." John continues.
"I'm sure she did what she felt was right." I said slowly pulling my hood closer to my ears.
"Right, do you think electric shock therapy was right? Just because I strangled an orderly. He just passed out from shock, not lack of air." Omega, did he just say he strangled a human being? What if he plans to kill me?
"That's really disturbing." I admit out loud.
"No, what's disturbing is that I enjoyed it."John corrected. Wow. He enjoyed strangling another human being. I let that sink in for a moment.
"I just died and I need to go make my funeral arrangements." I said then got up and left. What? I don't think well under pressure. As I walk away I see him walk into the drug store. If he kills someone I might be called in as a witness. I turn and run full speed to my car then drive away.
When a guy
We greeted and I complimented him on his collection and outfit. He informed me that yes, in fact, this was a handmade outfit consisting entirely of his cat's hair. See, this is crazy people. This is what crazy looks like, not me but him. We then proceeded to mossy about the air conditioned store only to talk of his cats, not mine. Only his. He goes on to tell me their price, their blood lines, their ancestors, their sleeping habits etcetera. Chris seems obsessed with rearranging his cats because apparently they all want to ride in the cart. So, in order to keep the fighting to a minimum, he keeps switching them around. At one point he told me I had to hold two of his fattest cats or all hell would break loose. The cats didn't act like they minded, it was Chris who went into screaming fits in the store because he said the cats were fighting. He rattles on for a good hour, screaming every so often, before I make up an excuse to leave. I love cats, but this is excessive!
Chapter thirty one
I think sometimes, well a lot of times, people over share the most disturbing things. I ask people questions and I am often delighted when they add extra little details about their lives. However, John took it to another level. We met in the drugstore parking lot. His idea, not mine, but who am I to judge.
"I'm sorry. This is just a lot of information." I stammer. I am hopping from one foot to the next trying to stay warm. Meeting in the drugstore parking lot was a bad idea. I am really cold.
"I want to know what your take on this is." John asks, appearing to be concerned. He doesn't appear affected by the temperature and is sporting shorts and a t shirt.
"Well, things are often not what they appear." I say shuffling my feet.
"She abandoned me." John cries.
"I understand how you feel." I lie blowing into my hands.
"Do you? Did your own mother abandon you to a psych ward?" He asks.
"No, she... she didn't." I answer honestly rubbing the goose bumps on my arms.
"See, she loves you. My mother does not love me. The first time I set her bed on fire and she sends me away!" He exclaims.
"I'm sorry." I respond. Did he just say he set his own mother's bed on fire? What is wrong with him? Better yet, what's wrong with me? I mean really, these are the people that I actually meet. This kind of makes me wonder why we are meeting in a drug store parking lot.
"It wasn't like she actually was in the bed." John continues.
"I'm sure she did what she felt was right." I said slowly pulling my hood closer to my ears.
"Right, do you think electric shock therapy was right? Just because I strangled an orderly. He just passed out from shock, not lack of air." Omega, did he just say he strangled a human being? What if he plans to kill me?
"That's really disturbing." I admit out loud.
"No, what's disturbing is that I enjoyed it."John corrected. Wow. He enjoyed strangling another human being. I let that sink in for a moment.
"I just died and I need to go make my funeral arrangements." I said then got up and left. What? I don't think well under pressure. As I walk away I see him walk into the drug store. If he kills someone I might be called in as a witness. I turn and run full speed to my car then drive away.
When a guy
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