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Black Kittens and Confused Barmaids before/after So, last night I got a kitten. A black kitten. I named him 'Boo'. Then I went to the bar with a friend, a dive I like, 'Jim's', where the owner has a voice box and apparently some of his staff doesn't like him. The barmaid confessed that she's only attracted to drug dealers and criminals, and had assaulted her husband in the courtroom as early as that same day, expressing hopes that he was now getting fucked up the ass in 'county'. He is cross eyed and a criminal. He is, or was, her husband. She thought he was a nice guy, but on their first date, they were in a stolen van distributing drugs in a three county area. I wondered breifly about her decision making skills, as she confessed her lesson, and won't date cross eyed guys anymore. "Well, he wasn't cross eyed, one of his eyes just got--stuck." she said. To which the people standing around, being me, my friend Rob, and a couple, man and a woman (Todd and Terry...ech, how cute), variously compared him to the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Crazy Eyes from 'Mr. Deeds'. "Well, he had a lot of blow. The first two weeks were a blur." she said. Which explains a lot. Meanwhile, I won handily at darts and pool, beating rob at pool being a rare treat, and periodically wondered how my sleek black kitty was getting along. Boo doesn't like being alone, apparently. However, Boo does come to the sound of my voice, follows me around as best he can, has slept on my belly today, purred for me, and is now cuddled up in my lap as I write this. Boo. My familiar. Watches me with green eyes, and now drifts off into warm comfortable sleep.
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