wardogwhiskey-blog

[wardogwhiskey-blog]

Feed me you idiot - A wish granted

The sound of an air raid siren goes off. It's loud. So loud. It sounds like its inches from my ear. I open my eyes and see my phone's alarm going off.

 "Why would I choose such a horrible sound to wake up too?"

 I wonder to myself.

 "Because I'm a masochist haha."

 But in all seriousness, I used to use a song I love as my alarm. The intro was calm and somewhat monotone, and it had a fade in effect. So it would wake me up by getting progressively louder without being jarring. I changed it from that because every time that song came up on my playlist I would got PTSD flashbacks about getting out of bed to start the day.

 Anyways, I cancel the air raid and put some clothes on. I check the time and exclaim:

 "Its six fucking twenty am?"

 I instantly remember that I forgot to turn off my work alarm. I have a lot of alarms set usually because I tend to ignore the first one and keep sleeping. I also have separate alarms for the days I work at certain times, and same goes for classes.

 I'm the type of person that can't go back to sleep after I wake up, no matter if I'm tired or not. So I decide to get some breakfast since my stomach sounds like an angry bear. I open the door to my room and start making my way to the kitchen. I see my massive black cat "Bodine" sleeping on the floor halfway to the kitchen. He hears my footsteps, performs a huge, luxurious stretch, then stands up. Mind you, by huge, I mean this cat is probably four feet long, maybe more, from the tip of his tail to the tip of his out stretched claws when he's laying on his side. I love my cat, he is such a friendly creature, so of course I greet him:

 "Mornin' Bodine baby."

 He responds:

 "Mornin'. You're up early. I hope that means you'll feed me early too. Also, I'm not big on this whole "baby" thing."

 I freeze.

"Wha… What…?" I say quietly.

He stares straight back at me.

"Did you just fucking talk?!"

He continues to stare at me.

 "Oh god it must be too early. Or maybe it’s a hangover. I don't remember the last time I had one of those."

 I have a very high tolerance for many things. Even when I get drunk to the point of falling all over the place and barely being able to articulate myself, I still wake up without any sort of repercussions. I'm sure my liver is happy. Last night was New Year's. I don't have any close friends anymore, unless you count my gaming and internet buddies. We're pretty close. We had a really nice time chilling at our own houses around the globe. I was drinking pretty heavily, and what turned into a New Year's hangout turned into a karaoke session rather rapidly. I remember feeling pretty bummed and down about a lot of personal things that came to pass throughout 2018. Family issues, relationship issues, being a bit lonely. I started thinking about my future, or lack thereof. I was working part time in a shitty job, working to support myself and my mother while going to school. Of course I was able to get a hold of a grant, and my job made it possible to keep food on the table, running water, and electricity, but I was never able to go out or afford very much.

 I've been so stressed out about my classes and performance at school. I struggle terrible hard in foreign languages. I've taken Spanish since sixth grade, and all I have to show for it is a few phrases like: "¿Como estas?", "¿Cual es tu telefono?", "No", "Si", "No hablo espanol." and "Aloha". I was going to fail my foreign language class, waste all that damn money I spent on it and the one time grant money. Failing this one stupid ass class was going to ruin my chances at a career. I have a hard time understanding people with a thick accent. I don't know why, it's just always been like that for me.

 Last night while thinking about all these things. A couple of my friends in the voice call that live in the same time zone as me, one of says hey, its 11:11pm for those of us in the right time zone. That sparks a bit of a friendly argument, but I don’t really hear the argument. Instead I make a silent wish:

 "Please oh please whatever higher power that may or may not exist, I NEED some good luck to finally come my way. Please, help me. Give me something useful to get me out of this situation. Please…"

 I finish my wish as the clock rolls over to 11:12pm and my friends have moved on from their little argument to talking about what videogame they want to spend a few minutes on before the "correct time zone" rolls over for New Year's. That starts another chorus of sarcastic remarks.

 I jump a couple inches as an air raid siren jars me out of my sleep deprived day dream. I bite my tongue in the process and barely hold back a wave of curses. I shake my head and my hands and turn off my alarm for the second time, and I make sure that I turn off all the backup alarms too.

 I open up the fridge to figure out what's for breakfast. I decide to microwave myself a breakfast sausage and open a can of pears.

 "Protein and fruit…" I mutter to myself.

 My cat had followed me into the kitchen and I hadn't noticed being mentally distracted. He eyes me for a couple moments and then, I will never forget this, says:

 "I hope some of that's for me."

 I almost drop the can of pears as I jump and spin around.

 "Say that again I fucking dare you!"

 "Hey idiot, I hope some of that's for me, and the expression is about a cat having your tongue, I don’t know an expression about a cat clogging your ears. Maybe clawing them…" My cat threatens as he licks his front right paw.

 "You're talking? You're talking. What? Is this something new or could you always talk?" I question him frantically.

 He replies, "Well, I've always been able to talk, I just don’t think you've ever listened."

 That does it. That right there, for whatever reason, makes me think back to last night and the wish I made. I've always loved superstitions, but I've never really believed in them. There had been times where I tested them and nothing ever happened. This was insane. I slowly and cautiously tell my cat:

 "Say something again."

 My cat replies profoundly:

 "Dumbass."

 I stand there dumbfounded. My… cat… just… spoke. Am I going mental? I had always wondered if I had some sort of mental condition that my parents had never told me about. Do I have Alzheimer's at 22!? The microwave goes off and I go get my food and just stare at it. I cut a piece of the sausage off the end, then go to fill up my Bodine's food bowl. After I finish filling it up, I drop that piece of sausage on top for him. I know it's bad, but I know he loves a little treat like that. That’s when I realize that I can actually ask him what he likes and dislikes.

 "Hey buddy?"

 A muffled "Yes?" answers me.

 "Do… Do you actually like that sausage?" I ask.

 I hear a couple more crunches and then a faint swallowing noise. He peaks up at me past the edge of the table, his bowl is under the table, and he tells me:

 "Yes. I really like this one. The other ones your mom gives me aren't as good."

 I question him, "The hotdogs? I don't like those as much either."

 "Yeah, those."

 He continues to eat his food as I ponder the implications of my morning conversation with… my cat. After I finish my small breakfast, I start gathering up what I'm going to wear to class today and my school supplies. I decide that since I'm up so early, I might as well get a little review in for class so I can still say I tried as I get that fat F in my grade book.

  I place my Spanish binder on my desk and open it up.