You know what I did tonight? I dropped a goddamn massage chair on the OTHER foot.
We had just finished a chair massage gig, and Ru was dropping me off at school. I opened the back of the Pathfinder, and my chair slid off the top of Rukan’s chair and . . . well, you know the rest. I won’t get graphic. As in, I won’t tell you what came out of my mouth at that moment.
I made it through class, somehow limping on both feet at the same time, occasionally taking off my shoe to ice and watch the pretty colors spreading across my metatarsals.
That God! He is SUCH a funny guy!
I want to tell you, and I want you to believe me, I am not somehow inviting physical injury. I did not ask the universe to break my foot. I did not ask to then fall down the stairs in an orthotic boot. I did not invite the damn massage chair to guillotine my toes. So, why why why?
I need to tell you now about my cat.
This is Bob. Full name: Bobby. You can’t see here, but he’s got a little cutoff tail that sticks straight up. Anyway.
Bob is getting old. He’s been in the neighborhood for at least a decade; the vet puts him at probably 13 or 14. You know how, when some people get older, they start to get a little . . . eccentric? Apparently it can happen to cats, too. Bob has started making love to stuffed animals.
It started with Lemon Juice the Pink Unicorn. Rocky would be sleeping, and we’d hear these weird cat noises in her room, and there he was, humping the unicorn. We’d chase him away from the unicorn, and he’d start on Bubba the Bear. We’d put him out, and he’d claw the screen door, which has a very loud bell tied to it, for two hours until we’d finally wake up enough to let him back in, cursing. Us, not him. He’d just go right back to work on something else in the toy bin.
Then Rebecca, Rukan’s hairstylist, suggested giving him his very own toy animal to “sleep with”. We were, at first, appalled. But it was winter, and he’s old, and I can’t just leave him out to freeze at night. So Rocky picked out a big pink bunny that she doesn’t much play with, and gave it to him.
That night, he and the bunny went at it for several hours before finally, spent, they smoked a cigarette, rolled over and went to sleep on the couch.
Bob and the bunny seem very happy with each other, and I’m glad? I guess? that we found a solution to the whole sex-with-Rocky’s-toys problem.
“Look what Bob’s doing,” says Rocky. “He’s biting the bunny! Silly Bob.”
“Yes, he’s, uh, cuddling with it!”
That’s all I got.