Short Story--Second Installment

Short Story—Part II

I’ll Fix You

Guess I miss her when she’s gone. Once, I got into a brawl. Hurt like hell, so I sat around the house sulking till she got back and took care of me, even if she only managed it with poorly disguised annoyance. Admittedly, I tend to get into fights on a regular basis, a trait for which Molly has little tolerance. She’ll patch me up and then watch me like a hawk, complaining if I want to go out again. After enough bad tempered bouts, she gives it up as useless. You can’t change a leopard’s spots.

And don’t be coming down on me like I’m the bad guy here. Molly’s not perfect. She does plenty of annoying crap, too. She’s always getting rid of stuff I bring in, like she’s the head know it all of what’s good, or heaving my things, just because they show a little wear. A guy gets attached. Where’s she get off making all the decisions?

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Why stick around? I hung with this chick once who lived on the streets, kind of shabby but good for a quick bounce—feisty. Taught me a thing or two about street fighting. It’s not like she had much, just a little territory, and this sleazy rat tries moving in. We settled his hash. I held him down while she slashed at him. Let him think he could get away a couple of times and took a few more swipes. Good fun. I think she actually took out an eye. Like I said, feisty. All in all, I gotta say I prefer coming home to sleep in the clean and warm.

Molly’s making noises about moving to the suburbs. Makes me really nervous. I know the rhythms of the city, its fast, car-stink, wide roads and its furtive garbage-smell alleys. I know its denizens, most happy to mind their own, some begging for trouble. Entertainment’s easy enough to find. Never been to the suburbs but I’ve seen it on TV. Row after row of sameness and, bet your life, nothing interesting in its sterile streets. Course, it’s Molly’s money, isn’t it?

Last installment next time.