Balconial Conversations

48 // germanic football-playing cat

Ugh that title
Dumb
I'm still mad *see last chapter*

K I'm listening to good girls and i have the video cached or whatever and you know the beginning "a good girl is like... sweet lemonade on a hot day." "Sweet lemonade" "sweet sweet lemonade" *gawsh*
"A good girl, is when you touch the fret of your cello, and feel the warm embrace"
Then they start stripping down the hallway *heart stutters*
And Michael starts his solo *heart stops*
I am a Michael girl okay.
But then Callum is singing earnestly with his eyes closed
And Ashton is beating those drums up with his arms flexing...
And luke...
Gosh I love 5sauce

Idc how the ë on Klose is okay but you can tell me if you want...
***
"So, tell me again why we're at the SPCA?" I ask Cam as he pulls the large metal door open for me; arm muscles flexing beneath the thin gray hoodie he wears. His hair is flattened by a white baseball cap (the same hat he wore on his birthday) and it's pulled low over his eyes.

"I want an ugly cat." He says, to me and to the woman bearing an unfortunate bowl cut sitting at the desk. The name tag on her shirt says Deborah. She stares at him for a moment, sure he's joking.

I'm sure that he's serious.

"Why an ugly one?" I pick the conversation back up as we walk down the short hallway to the cages. At the end, there are two doors. One sporting a silhouette of a cat, the other a dog. We take the obvious door.

"So I don't get bored." He tells me, and so we go looking for ugly cats.

My new shoes, navy Sperrys, made no noise against the cement floor as I pace in front of the cages. Behind the metal gates, there's a comical array of felines; kittens and old ones that look like they ate their house, their previous owner, and the cat food too.

"Cam, c'mere." I call, stopping in front of a small orange cat. It's one of the ones with smushed ears and a very bushy tail. It watches us distrustfully as Cam squats in front of the cage.

"Aw, he's cute." He squints at the small print beside the lock. "Twinkles. You're name is Twinkles? That sucks."

"Be nice, Twinkles is a perfectly nice name for a cat."

"Makes me think of twinkies, then I'm hungry."

I turn to Deborah, loitering by the door; "Are they all the same price?"

"Yes. They are all eighty dollars and already fixed. The one right there is four years old. It's family burned in a fire and he was the only one saved by the firemen."

"Ah, an arsonist are you?" Cam addresses Twinkles. "I'm going to call you... Klose."

"Why?"

"Well... I was thinking of arsonist, then Arsenal, then the World Cup then Germany then Klose."

The desk woman looks dumbfounded.

"We'll take him." I tell her with a smile.