“I like the post”, I tell HR as I scroll through her cat collage, “I mean… you know… whatever… I´m just going to acknowledge it.”

“But dad”, HR replies as she looks away, “I put socks on the cat–like you like!”

“You know”, I tell her as I hand her digitaltelephone back to her, “you really don´t understand it–Team Pet Socks. You know–a lot of these teams go drinking, have permiscious connections, but not Team Pet Socks.  We are different–it´s like this

You can take the girl off Dorinto, but you can´t take the Dorinto out of the girl.

You are who you are; you can´t go where you aren´t; you can´t be where you´re not. Like we are close, Team Pet Socks, but like… not THAT close.  Occasionally, I will make coffee or buy some gomitas–like… it´s really not much more then that.  Like something that is interesting–we keep an eye on each other, but casually, through the day, as we go about our lives–it´s like

Buenas dias.

Buenas dias.

Like that´s our whole conversation.  But, it actually says a lot–how are your eyes–are you stressed?  Do their clothes look presentable–classy? Respectful? You know–if these things are ok–then, whatever, it´s cool–it´s really not much more difficult to understand then that. That´s why you made my old friend uncomfortable–you aren´t supposed to play with her cat.  I mean–it´s a cat, not a human.  The whole idea of Team Pet Socks–is that it´s fun; it´s light; it´s kinda cute; it´s sweet; it´s nice; it´s tough; it´s straight-forward–and we kind of keep each other going–by being responsible, personally; you may not know, or understand, or internalize this–but we all have a lot of personal responsibilities: kids, parents, rent, bills, utilities.  Like, I´m not expecting you to help, or assist, with this–but, don´t make life harder. You kind of know what I mean?”

“So”, HR replies as she turns her head back to me, “you don´t want me to touch the cat?”

“HR”, I reply as I look forward in the spacejet and turn up the RadYo, “don´t fucking touch my old friend´s cat.”

I pause.

“Sorry for the profanity”, I say as I sigh, “but… it´s just that it matters.”

“Not touching the cat?”

“No”, I reply as I roll down the window, “it´s just EVERYTHING–respect what is not yours.”

“The cat isn´t mine”, she replies as she turns her head away.

“Well”, I reply as I roll the window back up, “it is now.  You had to fucking touch the cat–we never fucking touch the cat. Now we own a cat, yo!”

I pause.  I look in the rearview visor.

“The cat”, I say as I turn my head to HR, “just threw up in the backseat.”

I pause; I turn my head to look at the herd of cows.

“Like”, I continue as I turn my head forward, “is this place just all cows–what the fuck?”

“Told you”, HR says as she turns her head to her new companion in the backseat, “there´s a shitload of cows.”

“Yeah”, I reply as I turn up the RadYo, “yup.”

I pause; I love this song!

“Hey”, I ask HR as I hit the left blinker, “you hungry?”

“Yeah sure”, she replies as she wipes the throw up with a toilette, “what you thinking?”

“I don´t really care”, I reply as I look in the rearview visor.

“Hamburgers?”

I pause. I throw up, a little.

“Yeah, sure”, I reply as turn the steeringwheel left, “why not?”

“Hey dad”, HR says as she puts the toilette into the small garbage receptor, “the cat just threw up again. I´m going to need more toilettes.”

I pause; ain´t that the truth. I sigh.

Jamie Smith
therenegadeinc@gmail.com

It's all about the story, man.



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