After my shift, I went to the store first, just as I had told myself early in the morning, or as Lasagna had said. No idea, actually. And after wasting about ten minutes of my life over the taste of cat food I had to get for Lasagna, so that he wouldn’t be completely pissed off at me for a whole week, I finally returned to my apartment.
With my work bag thrown over my shoulder, I held my apartment keys in one hand and a full grocery bag in the other.
And as I unpacked them, I came to the conclusion that…
“Damn it, Lasagna, those cans of yours are better food than what I normally eat… ingredients-wise.”
I said to my cat as I placed the cans on the table one by one. Meanwhile, Lasagna rubbed against my legs to let me know he was there, that he loved me, and that he loved that can in my hand even more. But that’s not how it works. He doesn’t get food just for sweet looks. He’s already fat enough… okay, sometimes I do give him a treat for those sweet looks… Hey! Even the mightiest god would be tempted to give a cute kitten a treat.
But anyway, maybe I should start eating cat food too… who knows, maybe it would actually be good for me.
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But back to the heart of the matter, and to my biggest plans for tonight, probably since… an eternity.
I threw my work bag on the floor, where I would probably forget about it. And I wouldn’t remember it was there until I tripped over it, which would give me a bump at best, and knock my teeth out at worst.
Next, I grabbed everything that wasn’t work clothing and was at least somewhat suitable for a night out. And I’m not talking about my exorcist suit from three hundred years ago… why do I still keep that thing in my closet? Is it because of the nostalgia and the memories attached to it? Or am I just too lazy to throw it away? It doesn’t matter, it’s irrelevant in this situation anyway, so I’ll just toss it in a corner of the closet and forget about it until I look for something specific to wear again.
“Okay, if I can’t find anything even remotely suitable for a night out like this, I’ll just stay home with the cat and the TV.”
Because everything I had was too formal, seemed to come from another era… although some things really did come from another era, were too casual or too homey.
So, nothing for a night out.
But unfortunately, I finally found something that looked decent.
Of course I found it… because fate is not smiling upon me, and I love throwing myself head first into problems that don’t even involve me… but my damned sympathy, which I sometimes wish had died out long ago, drives me to the point where I worry more about the lives of others than my own…
With a somber look, I stood in the bathroom in front of the mirror, wearing a black blouse that probably hadn’t seen the light of day in years, and wouldn’t, except under the artificial light of that club. And black pants with a belt that was probably working overtime just to keep them in place at all. And somehow, I looked like I was ready for a night out. I was just wondering whether I should let my hair down or just leave it in that ugly ponytail, but my internal debate about my appearance was interrupted by the sound of cans falling on the floor.
Because my sweet fatso had decided that if he dropped cans of food on the floor, they would open by themselves and all the food would be his.
Although, honestly, I can’t blame my fatso for my stupidity and the fact that I thought those cans could safely stay on the table in the same room where the cat was.
Ah yes… I am naive and stupid… Thank you, Lasagna, for reminding me of that. Because apparently, I do everything I can to forget that little fact.
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Sighing, I left the bathroom and went to the kitchen. And of course, the prince was sitting on the table, looking at the cans on the floor, and then at me with a meaningful look, as if he wanted to say: Damn human, put some food in my bowl and don’t go playing with your hair in front of the mirror.
Well, of our amazing duo, I’m the one with the thumbs, and I’m also the one who can open cans of cat food.
Sorry, Lasagna, for smashing your dreams into tiny little non-edible pieces.
“You know, kitty, I haven’t forgotten about you? And you’re really going to get something to eat when I get back from that whole nightclub thing, after I’ve checked that everything is okay with Adara.”
“Meow!”
“No, Lasagna, because I know you’ll want to eat more later, and if I don’t give you food, you’ll scream the whole apartment complex down. Which means I won’t be able to sleep. What’s even worse, those damn neighbors… especially Mrs. Marie is bound to come complaining at half past one, and I won’t be able to think normally again until around seven with my first cup of coffee; until then, my brain is switched off.”
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Lasagna let out a very dissatisfied meow. But if I always did what Lasagna wanted, he would weigh about twelve kilos now instead of eight… which isn’t exactly great to begin with…
And I really don’t want to explain to the vet why my cat is so fat.
So, with my pride wounded and my heart broken, I ignored Lasagna’s next, very dissatisfied growl and grabbed my ID card. For a moment, I stared at that stupid piece of plastic that tells everyone exactly who I am… and by the way, that demigod part isn’t entirely hidden when they ask me for my ID, because next to my date of birth, the year 1726 is written in large numbers… or, to be precise, 13-10-1726… yes… I had quite a bit of trouble explaining to the woman at the counter why she had to write down that date, because she didn’t believe me that I was really born in the eighteenth century… and explaining that my mother is a goddess made no impression on her at all, so it wasn’t until I handed over my birth certificate that she finally believed me…
And so I wonder why I fought so hard to get my correct date of birth on that plastic card. I could have lied to her, I could have given her a different, more sensible date. But would the document still be valid then? Because it would be untrue… hmm…
And yet, we live in a society with demons and demon hybrids, who still live longer than the average mortal. So I don’t understand why she objected so much to my real birth year on the document. Is it because I don’t have evil eyes, no horns, and I didn’t have possession of her body?
Okay, okay, Luk, stop it, that was very stereotypical and racist… Even for you…
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Okay, I think I have everything, keys, documents. Maybe I’ll take that folder Adara gave me and read the extra information about this club.
Nah, that’s not my style. I’ve managed without a manual all these years and I’m still alive.
Although, when I was assembling that wardrobe, it would have been handy to know it was a wardrobe and not a table.
“Bye, cat, see you soon. When I get back, I’ll feed you, promised!”
Lasagna snorted disapprovingly as I closed the door behind me.
Yeah, maybe I should put my shoes away tonight before I find a mouse bitten to death in them tomorrow morning as revenge for the late-night dinner…
ns216.73.216.67da2
and then Add to home screen.