The Best Part Of My Day

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.

Giving Shit

Edward Julian Watson bought 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 out of his mind.

Three days went by and Edward Julian Watson still felt lonely.
The kitten did not like his new home.
And neither did Edward Julian Watson.
He seldom ever saw the dumb animal. It spent all its time under furniture.
In whatever room he was not.
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....What do you have in there?"
"I'd tell you, if i ever see it," Edward Julian Watson said, as he went inside.

"I bought a kitten," he told Becki, holding the telephone in one hand and a pen in the other. Edward Julian Watson was supposed to be working the books for the business.
"I love kittens!" Becki sounded excited in his ear. "Do you love your kitten?"
"I love my kitten, " Edward Julian Watson lied.
"And someone bought your old TV shop, I see," she went on.
And he said, "Becki. You would love Chicago."
And she laughed, but not loud. "Do you miss me, Edward?"
"Kinda," he said.

Edward Julian Watson climbed into his bed at three in the morning. He was so ready for sleep. He felt so nice and warm under the covers.
And then Edward Julian Watson smelled shit. He sniffed the air twice to make sure.
Yep. Shit.
"I don't like you, Orange," Edward Julian Watson said out loud to a cat that did not care.
And then he thought, Oh my god, I am soooo tired.
But now he could not sleep because he smelled shit.
"Fuck."
He noticed his stick of deodorant, in the red glow from his alarm clock numbers. And the idea quickly formed.
He rubbed the deodorant underneath his nose.
And then Edward Julian Watson went to sleep.