Drunk on honey vodka Lazzy Bear is asleep on the blue sofa. Snoring. Dreaming. He loves to dream. A hibernation process.
Oh! Don’t be so pedantic. I know there is only one z in the word but Smelly Cat spells it with a minimum of three. Zzzzzz. Get it.
Speaking of smelly cat, that’s exactly who Lazzy Bear is dreaming about.
Bear dreams of Cat. She is in the palest blue slip. The palest blue being almost white. Her sin is caramel. A feline who likes to recline in the sun. But her black black mascara is smudged giving her panda bear eyes. Bear isn’t sure her make up got messy. It wasn’t as if she had been crying.
He remembers a time when she sent a long message to him. In her mailbox she found a camera she had lent to someone which was returned badly damaged. She sat down on the door stoop and began to cry. She began to question her trust in other people.
Isn’t the palest blue slip just a memory of the girl on the bridge in Fire Walk With Me or Carrie or film stars from Hollywood. Maybe it was a lover. Something about being turned on by those thin straps.
Smelly Cat is sitting on the Bear’s chest. Talking to him in serious tones. Words he cannot hear. Seduced by the timbre of her voice she could be reading a user’s manual to him.
She is sitting across his chest and she seems smaller and lighter than he imagined. And she smells good. She is feral. She is wild and beautiful.
I don’t understand why you don’t take yourself more seriously. Rid yourself of fears. I read your lines. I tell you so many times.
Blue eyed bear looks up at her. A lioness with a mane. In that moment he knows he will say something flippant. A defensive tactic. He knows it is quite inappropriate. Totally fucking dumb to say it. Don’t say it.
Cat you have beautiful nipples.
It’s true. I wanted to say it and you told me I could say anything.
I talk about fear and your soul and you want to distract me with words about my nipples. Superficial. Douche.
Smelly Cat lifts a pillow. I’ve seen her lift pillows. I’ve seen her throw pillows across the room. Haven’t you?
But this time she brings the pillow down over Lazzy Bear’s face. She doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. She rests her hands on it palms down. Noticing that her nail polish has chipped in a couple of places.
I’m doing this because I want you to listen to me.
She can hear his laughter beneath the pillow. The tremble of laughter that shakes his frame. The arch of the monster’s body as he rises to roll her over.
Lazzy Bear is lying on the blue sofa. The discarded remnants of a taramasalata and cucumber sandwich on top of a magazine on the plans chest that serves as a coffee table. A glow from the kitchen powered by the still open fridge door and a pool of water forming on the floor. His mobile phone announces a WhatsApp message. Bleary eyed he reads and smiles.
As cold as ice 22.38
He taps out the reply, Possibly bad circulation cured by hibernation in cave with a Bear. Kisses. A plus Kat