Me: “It’s getting kind of hot in here.”

Tweak: “Have they promoted you to Admiral yet?”

Me: “Admiral Obvious? It’s way too hot for seamen humor.”

 

Tweak has melted into a leather chair, legs in front, head sideways over the arm, pink belly exposed like Colonel Sanders on a drunk.

 

Me: “I thought you liked heat.”

Tweak: “I like WARMTH. This is Stygian.”

Me: “Have you been reading again?”

Tweak: “Only the phone number for the ASPCA.”

 

Tweak slides off the chair, sprawls on the hardwood, licks the floor.

 

Tweak: “Isn’t there a button on the wall that makes it cooler?”

Me: “Yes, but it’s expensive. Do you do any tricks for money?”

Tweak: “Don’t YOU??”

 

Tweak rolls on her back, legs spread in four different directions like a pinned biology frog. Or like a hint.

 

Me: “Bowie-dog’s coat is much heavier than yours. When she’s hot, she just pants.”

Tweak: “That dog couldn’t find her ass if her tongue was stapled to it.”

Me: “I used to have a cat that panted.”

 

Tweak goes still. All the oxygen leaves the room. The earth rumbles.

Tweak: “There were no other cats before me.”

Me: “I’ll turn on the air.”

28 June 2014, “Tolerating Tweak.”

 

Tolerating Tweak – “Cat on a Hot Tin Rough”
Illustrations by Susie Winnie Morrison