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{fatstuff's revenge} jessi lee gaylord When they explode through the front door, he’s kissing her and dragging her toward the bedroom. I scramble through their legs, jump on the bed, and cry for food but he’s already got her jeans around her knees. She’s one of those uptight numbers with a little pursed mouth and eyes like lemons. She sees me and hisses, “get down, Fatstuff,” and shoves me off the bed. I’m in love with Billy, the man who owns me. But I’m a cat and I’m gay and he’s a man and he likes girls, so it’s an unrequited kind of love that makes me hungry, that makes me feel as if I’m starving. Or maybe I’m just hungry because Billy’s been gone for two days with his new girlfriend, Sissy. Sissy likes to poke me in the stomach and say, “Your cat is so fat. He’s like obese.” I’m not a fat cat, I’m weight-challenged, but she calls me “Fatstuff” and I want to scratch her eyes out. He pulls her underwear, these black numbers with bows on the sides, down her thighs with his teeth but the underwear don’t make it to the floor; they dangle around one oyster-white ankle. He climbs on top of her and grunts 41 times. She sounds like someone is killing her. With a knife. Or a hammer. The room smells like hot grass and onions. He hoists her ankles over his shoulders and her underwear go flying and land like a lasso over the Buddha on the windowsill. I’m out of my mind with hunger. I slump under the bed and sniff out a pair of his ex-girlfriend’s underwear. They still have the milk-white paste in the crotch. I lick it a couple of times. It tastes more like moldy carpet dipped in moldy chili than milk. The bed stops creaking. Billy’s expression is punch drunk and Sissy is sprawled over the sheets like a corpse. “Where’re my panties?” she says. Billy hunts through t-shirts and boxers on the floor. I stop licking the crotch of his ex-girlfriend’s underwear and jump on the foot of bed. Sissy gives me a dirty look. “Fatstuff,” she says for no reason. “Here they are,” Billy says and hands his ex-girlfriend’s dirty underwear to Sissy. “What the fuck are those?” she says. She looks like she was struck by lightning. “Your panties.” He holds them out to her, smiling, like he has just retrieved a pearl from under the sea just for her. “Those. Are. Not. My. Panties,” she yells and holds a pillow over her muff. “Oh shit,” Billy whispers. Sissy whirls around the room getting dressed like a Tasmanian devil, squawking the entire time. After she slams out the front door, Billy lays face down on the bed, whispering, “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” into his pillow. I cuddle up next to him. “I guess it’s just you and me, boy,” Billy says and rubs my tummy. “Meow,” I tell him. I’m hungry and in love and I can’t stop purring. |
