Word count 1431
Long version – A Cat Who Plots The Overthrow Of Capitalism While I Drink Black Butte Porter And Eat A Carl’s Famous Star.
The title is half the story. The rest is about my wonderful Christmas in August. It began inauspiciously when I saw Sally Rich on August 2nd. She was the CEO of Chasebook, the multi-billion dollar website for stalkers. She had come back to Burgville for her twentieth high school reunion. She had dragged her fiancé, Osborne Chatworth the 3rd with her. Yes, dragged. His clothes were torn from being pulled on his stomach across the road. Their upcoming nuptials were to take place during the Christmas celebration, which like most towns in this unnamed state, take place in August.
Despite her time away from Burgville and her homes in London, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Cucamonga, she still had warm feelings for the place where she grew up. We had gone to Bonnie & Clyde High and dated at the local soda shop, Stepson’s, and the New Wave Cinema. At one time I imagined a life together, me working at the local Fuel Stop and her at Burgville Library, but she was too ambitious to stick around.
The location of their upcoming nuptials did not sit well with Mr. Chatworth. As he put it “I wouldn’t wipe my $1500 shoes on the backsides of these insufferable rubes in this no Starbucks town”. As previously mentioned, he was dragged here. Sally told me that despite some minor misgivings and his lack of any male parts, she still wanted to marry her Chasebook and his also multi-billion dollar Sniff It, the pet matching site.
My good fortune was that Sally and I got to spend a lot of time together before the wedding. Osborne spent a lot of time getting his ears flossed; flag acrylic nails, and blond highlight hair extensions. We mooned over the teenage fun that we had and the perversions that we practiced. I can’t say any more because this is PG. If you want the good stuff, watch the Pornstop version.
Sally was still determined to marry him, until we went bowling as we did during high school. She broke down and told me “I don’t want chauffeurs, fifty million dollar estates with hot and cold running staff. Nor do I want to be Empress Of The World. I want stinky babies, a one bath crap shack, and you, my beloved runt.”
It came to pass that we had a modest wedding here in Burgville on the 25th of August, our Christmas. My cat Marx-Hegel, dressed as Santa, was best animal for the wedding and we served Carl’s Western Bacon Cheeseburgers and bottled McMenamins Terminator Stout at the reception. The entertainment was Brenda Lee’s “Rocking Around The Christmas Tree” played on repeat for five hours.
Presents were exchanged and we toasted each other with pork nog.
Nothing beats being a Hallmark movie home town boy.
Appears in The Daily Drunk and Free Flash Fiction. A rare instance of responding to a writing prompt. Published about two hours after seeing the prompt. Inspired by wandering through the room while editor watched a Hallmark movie. Now in Short Humour. Because of the original long title, I call this many things from day to day. Now in Writer’s Egg. Here is longer version is in Creativity Webzine.
A Cat Who
The title is half the story. The rest is about my wonderful Christmas in August. It began inauspiciously when I saw Sally Rich on August 2nd. She was the CEO of Chasebook, the multi-billion dollar website for stalkers. She had come back to Burgville for her twentieth high school reunion. She had dragged her fiancé, Osborne Chatworth the 3rd with her. Yes, dragged. His clothes were torn from being pulled on his stomach across the road. Their upcoming nuptials were to take place during the Christmas celebration, which like most towns in this unnamed state, take place in August.
Despite her time away from Burgville and her homes in London, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Cucamonga, she still had warm feelings for the place where she grew up. We had gone to Bonnie & Clyde High and dated at the local soda shop, Stepson’s, and the New Wave Cinema. At one time I imagined a life together, me working at the local Fuel Stop and her at Burgville Library, but she was too ambitious to stick around.
The location of their upcoming nuptials did not sit well with Mr. Chatworth. As he put it “I wouldn’t wipe my $1500 shoes on the backsides of these insufferable rubes in this no Starbucks town”. As previously mentioned, he was dragged here. Sally told me that despite some minor misgivings and his lack of any male parts, she still wanted to marry her Chasebook and his also multi-billion dollar Sniff It, the pet matching site.
My good fortune was that Sally and I got to spend a lot of time together before the wedding. Osborne spent a lot of time getting his ears flossed; flag acrylic nails, and blond highlight hair extensions. We mooned over the teenage fun that we had and the perversions that we practiced. I can’t say any more because this is PG. If you want the good stuff, watch the Pornstop version.
Sally was still determined to marry him, until we went bowling as we did during high school. She broke down and told me “I don’t want chauffeurs, fifty million dollar estates with hot and cold running staff. Nor do I want to be Empress Of The World. I want stinky babies, a one bath crap shack, and you, my beloved runt.”
It came to pass that we had a modest wedding here in Burgville on the 25th of August, our Christmas. My cat Marx-Hegel, dressed as Santa, was best animal for the wedding and we served Carl’s Western Bacon Cheeseburgers and bottled McMenamins Terminator Stout at the reception. The entertainment was Brenda Lee’s “Rocking Around The Christmas Tree” played on repeat for five hours.
Presents were exchanged and we toasted each other with pork nog.
Since the wedding and the end of the filming, our life has been a continuing honeymoon. Town people think that we are not well to do because of what appears to be our modest house. They don’t know that Sally got a pile of money for selling Chasebook. It would be crude to mention the amount, let’s just say 1% of a Musk before Twitter. Some of that got us massive underground caverns and tunnels. Two of the underground rooms are named de Sade and Leo Masoch named for a couple of our favorite sexual pioneers. We mostly don’t use those rooms for ourselves, we have the Lovebird Room with our own theatre. We stick to Kama Sutra Thursday (as well as Taco Tuesday of course) when we play a chapter from the movie we produced and was picked as motion picture of year for 2025. We follow the movie reproducing the action on the screen. Our favorite is Bat In The Chicken Coop.
The truth is that we love the western classics in our own large bed / gymnasium. Birds in flight, snake and mate, porcupines in love, and inverted reverse cowgirl. I do have a confession. Even though I have a disproportionately large lingam (dick for the uneducated and yoga dropouts) and great stamina which Sally has loved since high school, sometimes I have a cold or the flu. At those times she can always visit the Symium™. I’m not the kind of jealous guy who would want to deny his love her pleasure.
Enough about us. I’m sure that you would like to hear about all the celebrities that visit us to enjoy the carnal games that we host, but I cannot reveal the names. You won’t hear from me about the mega church guy that comes with five Russian gymnasts and stays locked in a room for a week, nor the beloved male actor who always plays regular guy who visits with five hunky bodyguards and lots of dope, or the female teen star just out of rehab with eleven of her favorite back up dancers and a truck of party favors.
That’s the beginning of the story. Sally is calling, so just let me finish with nothing beats being a Hallmark movie home town boy.
Different versions appear in The Daily Drunk, Short Humour, Writer’s Egg, Haven, Creativity Webzine under different names
Doug Hawley 