FFM 2020 23 - Agent of Orange
Snickie shuts the laptop. Ugh, this challenge. What am I supposed to do? No, seriously, what am I supposed to do? She opens it again because she immediately forgot what she was supposed to do and it’s on her laptop. Also, Google Docs where she writes her stories is more accessible from the laptop. “The hell is Discordianism, anyway? Not some kind of ploy to get more people into the Discord channel, I’m sure. The collaboration challenge’ll take care of that.”
The collaboration challenge. Ugh. Hydra’s been hinting at it for well over a week now. Smashing her head seems like a really good idea. Also painful. Let’s not do that. Even though it’s totally Snickie’s fault that she’s so behind on Flash Fiction Month and on studying for Solid Mechanics. The test is next week and Snickie hasn’t even cracked open the eBook for the chapters it’s on. Better get a move on or you’ll be stuck with a C in a Very Important Class.
Snickie gets up and heads into the kitchen. I’ll be able to study once I’ve had some food, she lies, having eaten yet another one of her mother’s bean concoctions just thirty minutes prior that she refuses to admit she actually sort of likes even though she’ll still take most other forms of food over beans and rice any day unless it involves cooking that takes more time than microwaving a bowl of beans and rice. So really she’ll take other food over beans and rice but only if the other food requires the same or less effort than the beans. At least her mom only does this every two weeks, and so Snickie experiences predictable diarrhea only every other week (and not just once because there are always leftovers). The rest of the time she has unpredictable diarrhea because apparently there was fiber in the dinner she made last night. It can’t be dairy, or at least not cheese, that upsets her colon since she had pão de queijo the other night and was perfectly fine. Her current guess is grease, although pão de queijo has a good bit of that too.
She chooses an orange and grabs a knife, and immediately regrets that her fingers will smell like orange for the rest of the day, but at least it’s wholly natural orange, not like that orange spray her mom got that claims to smell like actual natural orange but still smells very chemically but still much much better than the cat pee they bought it to neutralize.
Snickie takes care to make sure the orange sans peel doesn’t touch the countertop since that’s how it happens - the cat sleeps on something, has a very active dream where she twitches and thrashes, and inevitably dribbles pee on whatever she’s sleeping on. And this cat has absolutely no qualms against getting up on the counter anytime. There’s probably dried up pee on the island that she doesn’t smell because of the kitchen trash or the fact that the hard laminate top doesn’t soak up pee like the upholstery on the window bench or the dining room chairs or the tablecloth or Snickie’s stack of paper homework do. Then again, maybe there isn’t, since the cat definitely prefers soft surfaces to the hard countertop. On the other hand, she did once pee on Snickie’s laptop.
She separates the segments and - yep, there goes the juice all over her hands. She gets a paper towel but it’s pointless because she’ll just spill more juice as she goes along. So she gets another paper towel because more waste is better than just grabbing a cloth rag that she can throw into the washer with the rest of her triweekly laundry. She really should do laundry weekly, but it’s quarantine, so she doesn’t have to care about her clothes smelling on the second wear. And she has plenty of t-shirts.
Snickie sits down at the dining room table with her orange segments and paper towels. Not even a minute later the cat jumps up onto her lap and makes no attempt to hide that she’s sniffing Snickie’s orange. “You’re so annoying, cat,” she says. And then kisses the top of her head because dammit she’s cute. The cat acknowledges the kiss by doing nothing and continuing to sniff at the orange. Stupid cat, you’re not supposed to like citrus, that’s why the orange anti-pee-smell spray smells like orange.
Snickie continues to eat the orange segments but dedicates one hand to scratching a little head, which earns more of a response from the kitty. She leans into the scritches and puts on such amazing “do me” eyes that Snickie can’t help but smile widely. “Ahhhhhh yessssss,” she says, talking for the cat, and then not. “You like head scratches, don’t you.” Scritch scritch scritch.
The cat shakes her head and liquid scatters everywhere, droplets of drool landing on Snickie’s shirt and her hand and her face and the remainder of her orange segments.
“Augh, gee, thanks,” says Snickie, annoyed now, and pushes the cat to the floor. But really, what did she expect?
FFM 2020 30
Contains at least one of the elements of discordianism (sweet, boom, pungent, prickle, orange). I was originally going for orange as main, but I think I ended up in prickle a little bit, and some sweet, and maybe some boom with that last bit.
Stream of consciousness style writing (but not just inner monologue). Check.
Aja the cat doesn't purr (audibly), she drools. It's gross.
WC: 854 (14*61)
This flash fiction was brought to you by orange.