You know, I’ve been riding the bus on a regular basis – and every now and then on an irregular basis, if ya know what I mean – for almost eleven years now. In that time, I’ve fallen down in it, witnessed an indecent exposure, watched the young and the young-at-heart make jackasses out of themselves with nothing but their questionable wits and a pair of headphones. I’ve listened in on whole conversations made up of the words “mah dawg!”, “thazz righ’, thazz righ’” and “what? what you say?!”
But it was yesterday’s ride that opened my eyes.
And now that they’re open…
Here. Sit here, next to me. See how you can look into the cars next to us, look down into them?
Yesterday, I was a passenger on a bus that passed my cat.
She was driving my car.
And here’s the kicker: she didn’t have my permission.
You’ve met Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys), haven’t you? Tiny cat about this big, perky little ears? Has been writing “the good shrimp” on every grocery list I’ve ever made?
That’s the one.
Just look at them! The car is full of cats! The full contingent of Squeak Toy is in the car – and so are their instruments. Stumpy “Lucky” Strykes sits atop the drums he’s piled up in the back seat, Ignatz D. Katz is lying atop the upright bass that is just as much outside the car as it is inside, and that big cat, the one with the long hair and the yellow eyes – Hairball, they call him – is in the front passenger seat, cradling an electric keyboard in his arms like a baby.
They are laughing, talking, smoking, in my car! Smoking! I stare down, incredulous, as Hairball kisses his piano with more ardor than I like to see during an afternoon commute, and it is at this point that Liza Bean happens to look over…
And look away! I watch as she casually takes another drag off her cigarette and then drop it out the driver’s window. I watch as she looks into her rearview mirror, speaks to the backseat passengers, her little black lips moving almost imperceptibly...
The light changes, and the Honda speeds away.
If you need me, I’ll be at the Peacock Lounge with Pam, drinking, snacking, and wondering if I need to up the insurance on the car…
But it was yesterday’s ride that opened my eyes.
And now that they’re open…
Here. Sit here, next to me. See how you can look into the cars next to us, look down into them?
Yesterday, I was a passenger on a bus that passed my cat.
She was driving my car.
And here’s the kicker: she didn’t have my permission.
You’ve met Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys), haven’t you? Tiny cat about this big, perky little ears? Has been writing “the good shrimp” on every grocery list I’ve ever made?
That’s the one.
Just look at them! The car is full of cats! The full contingent of Squeak Toy is in the car – and so are their instruments. Stumpy “Lucky” Strykes sits atop the drums he’s piled up in the back seat, Ignatz D. Katz is lying atop the upright bass that is just as much outside the car as it is inside, and that big cat, the one with the long hair and the yellow eyes – Hairball, they call him – is in the front passenger seat, cradling an electric keyboard in his arms like a baby.
They are laughing, talking, smoking, in my car! Smoking! I stare down, incredulous, as Hairball kisses his piano with more ardor than I like to see during an afternoon commute, and it is at this point that Liza Bean happens to look over…
And look away! I watch as she casually takes another drag off her cigarette and then drop it out the driver’s window. I watch as she looks into her rearview mirror, speaks to the backseat passengers, her little black lips moving almost imperceptibly...
The light changes, and the Honda speeds away.
If you need me, I’ll be at the Peacock Lounge with Pam, drinking, snacking, and wondering if I need to up the insurance on the car…
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21 comments:
I think the feline co driver (I believe they call it a rider of all things) amendment has a very high co pay.
That'll make your premiums go up for sure!! :D
Higher premiums and a couple bottles of Febreeze.
As long as the gas tank stays full, you can't complain too much. You might also want to ask her method of packing a drum set, an upright bass and a piano into an automobile. That is a valuable skill.
Or you could carry all the keys with you, all the time.
You may end up with a pinched nerve in your shoulder from the extra weight, but that pales in comparison to how much the insurance is gonna cost, what with the underage driver and no driver's ed ...
Ack! I hadn't even thought of what this will do to my insurance payments!
Aren't you happy you don't have a pet rhino?
Driving her Kitty-Car, just like the original Catwoman. Except Catwoman had a sexy convertible. You might want to consider trading in your Honda.
Or, are you spending beaucoup time at the Peacock and hallucinating from sleep deprivation, and other things.
I thought about the increased insurance. I thought about the smelly car. And then I thought, let her do it. Make a virtue out of necessity. You can't stop her anyway and ...if you did... what else would she do?
And I'm sure she cannot be bothered with feeding the parking meters, so you had better check the glove compartment for a stack of parking tickets...
Cats don't need insurance. They don't care. Besides, what would an insurance adjuster report if there was an accident? Cats'd steal a cop car while the officer examined skid marks. These things never make it to the authorities.
From now on make her take the bus and you take the car. The insurance companies cover only a few cats these days.
She looked over then looked away? Without even a wave? Tsk. Regular shrimp for a few weeks.
Busted! No nip for you tonight. Heh...
And I thought my kids were bad! Don't they know how unhealthy smoking is?
Really are you surprise dear Liza Bean Bitey(of the Minneapolis Biteys), does as she sees fit when and were she sees fit to do whatever it is she sees fit to do.........
Cute Pearl, I think you should take the car and she should take the bus... that would curb her smoking habit, lol :)
Thanks for putting a smile on my face Pearl. Blessings.
Yep. Your afternoon commute definitely beats mine . . .
So long as they weren't smoking catnip. I've been in bands, so I know.
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