Rolling My Eyes

Driving around and it is late and we were drinking cold things that will only keep us awake. But a cop starts following us anyway. And five blocks later, he turns turns on his cherries, and Charlie says a swear word and we pull over. The cop drives his car along side us, and windows are rolled down. And the cop he just stares. And stares. And then says, "How old is she? You're looking a little young to be out." I stated my age at the same time Charlie, the asshole, was stating how old I was gonna be. The cop says, "No shit?" And I let him know I loved him.

Edward Julian Watson purchased himself a kitten. And he regretted it badly, while he was walking home from the pet shop, arms full of expensive cat food, scented litter and the orange box containing the orange cat, that Edward Julian Watson had decided to name Orange. He regretted buying the animal because the sounds coming from the box appalled him. The cat sounded like a human. A small one dying and scared. It kept scratching at the box. Edward Julian Watson could not get the sight of Jessica McClure's face out of his mind. His mother had made him watch the news while the little girl was stuck down a well. Three days went by and he still felt lonely. The kitten had not helped matters much. He seldom ever saw the dumb animal. It spent all its time under furniture. In whatever room he was not, he assumed. He never heard it make a sound. But apparently his neighbour did. She opened her door, when he was getting into his. "My god, the scratching and howling....Wha...