Saturday Night: Another day of carpentry, and I'm ripped to the bone: too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my pants, too sexy to unscrew my ass from the god damned sofa and go sleep in my bed. So there I lie: caked in sawdust, full of wine, and dead to the world. Sweet Action!

1:00 am: M-E-O-W-squeaksqueak!!!

I open my good eye. There's Tabby with a wee rodent wriggling in her jaws. "Good girl!" Having roused me, she turns 180 and wags her sassy ass out the room. I follow, armed.

In a corner, she releases. It's all up to Daddy now. Shovel in hand, I swing. WUMP! Strike one.

Recapture; release; strike two.

She looks up at me, and I read the meaning in her eyes: "Dick."

I remind her that she pees in the wall sockets, and starts electrical fires.

She cops an attitude: one paw on hip, one paw moving...Z-Snap. "Oh no you di'nt - not here in fron' of the mouse!"

Third pitch, rodent in the corner, and...WHACK! Out of the park, past Waveland, crashing into a dope fiend under the crumbling terra cotta at the Red Line near Irving. "Holy Cow!" comes the voice from the booth, "That thing could'a bought crack in Uptown! Hawhawhaw! Drink Budweiser."

3:30 am: I'm at bat again; it's a double header. There lies the second mouse: no shirt, no pants, dead to the world, blood spilled like wine.

As the sun rises, Tabby gets praise and Mr. Comby-comb, but no kisses. For her, it's nature. But I go back to sleep with mixed feelings...

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contact: paulgermanos(at)msn.com
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