alta strangeco

Of late I’ve put myself under stress, or life just has been stressful for me. I found myself thinking about Edna and Dorp, two beings who gave me much-needed affection and attention. Ardent readers will note that Edna finally reached out to me last week. I was joking in my head that if Dorp came back then it’d be brown-trousers time.

The cats have been acting strange of late. They refuse to hang out in the living room. At least not on the living room rug. I believe I had my ankles, around the Achilles tendon, ravaged by fleas from the backyard but I’m pretty certain they weren’t tracked in to affect the cats. Yet some my printouts have little blood splatters as if there are open wounds from fleas. Knowing Leah would flip her shit like The Incredible Hulk, I kept my hypothesis on the down-low while trying to treat the situation with frequent vacuuming.

Which brings me to another hypothesis. Dorp’s ghost is haunting the living room. The cats don’t want to hang out around his ghost, understandably, because ghosts are spooky. Even friendly ones.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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