A Stroll On Home

Date: 6/20/2017

I was wandering the streets late at night for a reason I can not recall when I saw a large white cat, fluffy or fat, cross my path, just like that. (Prime time, rhyme time) I determined the cat to be in danger of getting hit by a vehicle speeding down one of the many roads. After approaching and petting it like I do any animal appearing to be disease-free, I gently picked it up. I met little resistance and the docility of the cat gave me an impulse to aggravate it. I set it down and picked it up with more force and less consideration to its anatomy a few times till it clawed me. I was satisfied with this result and proceeded to carry it through a poorly lit block of the neighborhood to find it a proper place to explore for the night. I came across a white, plastic fence which confined within it a medium-sized, skinny, brown dog and a tabby cat spotted with a variety of browns and black, but overwhelmingly white. They seemed to be getting along, the dog and the cat, so I tossed the large cat I’d so direly needed to rescue just a moment ago into the mix. I knew it was likely that neither of the animals domestic to this area would take well to it within the first moments, but I thought I might enjoy this small quarrel. I did. As soon as the cat from the street landed in the enclosed porch, the more homely cat clawed it three times and all three animals took off in separate directions. The problem of the husky white cat being in danger was unsolved, but at that point I’d fulfilled other methods of fun and relief. What was I to do with it anyway? It was probably past midnight and no one but, maybe, the pound would be willing to take it in. (My landlord doesn’t allow pets, and with the amount of fur on this one, evidence of it’s presence would be laborious to remove) As I turned to head back home I noticed that behind me two geeky teens were talking quietly just outside the door of the home across the street. A girl and a boy, the boy seemed to be most anxious of the two, and I established that the home belong to her. He seemed to be nervously pushing to stay over for the night and her being brutally honest of what she thought that would lead to. If not sex than some awkwardness between them for allowing the progression of that titillating narrative. In the middle of this I realized that if either of the two were to look over at me, on the property of a stranger to me, I might be questioned for my purpose. Especially just stalking their conversation, as I was. But I remained, feeling that movement towards the street, and inadvertently more towards the young couple, would bring more attention than sitting still. The girl looked me right in the eyes from across that way, but didn’t say anything. I must have taken this as some kind of sign of exuberant trust, because when they went back inside the house for the boy to gather his things to leave, I walked straight into the home only to throw away a piece of trash. The door was left open. As I exited, the boy followed behind me and immediately began asking me what I thought about the girl’s feelings for him. I asked him if he was curious as to why I was lurking around but didn’t get an answer. I told him that I would’ve had to understand more of the context of the conversation to form an opinion and with his agreement to this he left me. I’m back on the road to getting home when I notice that I feel as light as air and I start doing flips and twists off the curbs on each side of the road. I would stay above the ground for three times as long as usual. A few adults were talking outside and I attempted to show them my new-found skill. They couldn’t care less, and their dismissiveness made me feel ridiculous and literally drunk. I tried, for myself, to pull of another aerial trick but only scraped my hands against the asphalt. I was suddenly worryingly intoxicated and fearful that a police vehicle would be coming up this quiet road right at this moment just to make things worse. I could hardly walk. I managed to get back up and force the proper movements in my legs. The feeling of being drunk was gone. I was so close to arriving home when I noticed pyramids of cases of Monster and Coca-Cola placed outside of large apartment buildings that only exist where they did in my dreams. Some of the cases had both the Monster and Coca-Cola signature on them and I figured that the two companies were doing some sort of collaboration to get the college students who dwelt within the apartment to buy more of their products. Well, they were just sitting there, so I thought I ought to take a case home. Each pyramid contained a different assortment, and as I looked through them I settled on a large 50 pack of Hostess cherry pies. I think that the selection only made sense to me because that’s what I wanted. ( I love those little Hostess cherry pies) So fuck yes, I’m ready to take this home when I start to think about what it would be like to drop these off to a group of homeless people. Then and there I’m transported to an abandoned apartment building, in a room, surrounded by 10 or so homeless. The cherry pies were gone, and I wasn’t even thinking about them anymore. I was just chiming in my two cents to the conversation going on between these people. On of them mentioned his theory on how moderation of drug use would be better for everyone than being sober. That it was all about control, and with that one could harness the power of drugs/the mind. This might be a little theory of mine, but having a homeless person say it gave it a little less luster. Instead of fully agreeing to my own philosophy, I just gave an example of how it could work to ones advantage to have your inhibitions taken away and your charm increased with a small amount of alcohol at a company party. And that’s it.