The phone rang loudly in Zooey’s ear. She blinked up at the ceiling that was illuminated with the bright morning light that came in from the open window and realized that she had fallen asleep on the sofa again.
“Yeah,” she said answering the phone.
“Hi,” a nervous voice answered back, “Is this Zooey?”
“I’m pretty sure it is,” she replied groggily as she got up to look out the window.
“Listen,” the voice continued, “This is Nasa…the guy from last night?”
“Oh yeah, I was hoping you would call me, I mean,er, us. I’m guessing you didn’t smoke my number after all,” she said as he laughed.
“I was wondering,” he said nervously, “If maybe you guys were free tonight?”
“We’re always free,” Zooey said confidently, “That’s what’s great about never having a schedule. Why don’t you stop by sometime tonight, I did give you the address.”
“Oh, right, yeah,” Nasa replied, “I will.” Zooey could almost hear him smiling throught the reciever.
“Great, see you later then,” Zooey said hanging up.
“Fritz!” Zooey yelled as she stumbled over a pile of coffee cups stacked in a pyramid. Black coffee spilled out onto the hardwood floor.
“Fritz!” Zooey continued to yell. The blinding light from the window mixed with her caffiene hangover made opening her eyes a challenge and she knocked over another dirty coffee cup tower, this time spilling water Fritz had been using for his latest watercolour painting. It fanned out from the toppled cups, spreading out over half finished paintings.
Zooey covered her face with her hands to block the light, and walked down the hall towards Fritz’s room. The door was cracked and she could her rustling sounds followed by a sharp crash.
“Fritz?” Zooey asked nervously, pushing the door open. The curtains had been knocked down to the floor and many of his paintings that had recently been strung along the walls were in heaps on the floor. A furry orange head stuck out from under the sheets on the bed and looked curiously out at Zooey.
Mr. Williamson meowed pathetically in attempts to lure Zooey into feeding him and hopped down from under the bedsheets. The tiny kitten sat before Zooey who bent down to scoop him up.
“Allergic to cats huh, Fritz is such a liar,” Zooey laughed into the whiskered face of Mr. Williamson. She took the kitten into the kitchen and propped him up on the counter where he explored the various contents of the dirty coffee cups displayed neatly next to the sink. Zooey watched him intently and laughed as he stuck his face into a cup and immediately brought it out with a look of sheer kitten disgust.
“I know, I know…but we just don’t have the heart to wash them,” she said apologetically to the cat, “Just like we didn’t have the heart to give you back to our neighbour.” Zooey set a saucer full of soymilk next to Mr. Williamson who licked at it and sneezed, walking away with a bored expression.
“Sorry we don’t have real stuff,” she said looking at the sink.
Suddenly Zooey had a use for the condensed milk.
As Zooey poured Mr. Williamson a saucer full of the Panda condensed milk, she heard the usual sound of Fritz struggling to open the door with his key. From the kitchen she heard him in the hallway trying hard to keep quiet.
“He must think I’m still asleep,” Zooey whispered to the cat who was happily gorging himself with condensed milk. Zooey saw Fritz quietly tiptoeing barefoot from where she stood.
“Sneaking in are you?” She said. Fritz looked scared for a minute before relaxing his shoulders and heading into the kitchen.
“I see you never took Mr. Williamson back to Nancy’s place,” Zooey said, stroking the kitten’s pumpkin coloured fur.
“I couldn’t do it,” he defended, “I want to cum with cuteness every time i look at him. It’s just, unreal. Besides, I’m still sticking to the story that the sofa ate him if anyone asks. Better relay that to Nancy.”
“Only because that’s the most logical reason I can tell her when explaining why one of the kittens went missing?”
“Anyway,” Zooey said ignoring the issue at hand, “Where were you?” She moved to pick up Mr. Williamson, who was absorbed in his dish of condensed milk. He hissed and she drew back. The cat continued to drink happily.
“Besides getting proper cat food?” Fritz laughed, “No, seriously, I was out getting inspiration in the usual form of early morning coffee from that one little place, you know, with the giant rooster statue out front?”
“Well,” Fritz continued, “You won’t believe it, but they put in a Starbucks right across the street.”
“Those creeps!” Zooey shouted in an exasperated tone.
“I know,” Fritz said annoyed, “But it gets better. So, I’m outside of the rooster place and I’m getting ready to go stir up some serious trouble, when I see this gorgeous guy standing in front of Starbucks and we were just looking at each other from across the street and he waved! I tried to cross the street to talk to him, but he was gone when i got there.”
Mr. Williamson looked up from his milk.
“Meerow?” Mr. Williamson meowed curiously as if he were part of the conversation.
“I think what Mr.Williamson was trying to contribute, was that you are probably hallucinating brought on by a lack of well needed caffienated beverages,” Zooey said scooping up Mr. Williamson into her arms and cradling him like a baby.
“Great, we have a mini-Freud in the house now. Just splendid,” Fritz said with a frown.
“Maybe you should go there tommorow at the same time you did this morning. Even if…” Zooey grimaced, “even if it is Starbucks.”
“You’re right,” Fritz said hopefully, “But I’ll just wait outside or something…or if I do go inside I’ll just order water. We can’t contribute to those corporate creeps.”
“So,” Fritz said changing the subject once again, “I did promise to take you to our abandoned building.”
“Oh, I forgot!” Zooey cried, upsetting Mr. Williamson who clawed his way up her shirt, perching on her shoulder, and looking around wildly.
“You should walk around like that,” Fritz said.
“Sadly,” Zooey said, “The city streets were not made for reckless intellectuals like our dear Mr. Williamson, I’m sure he prefers to stay at home and write lengthy compositions on the recording artist formerly known as Charles Trenet rather than go gallavanting around on our silly adventures.”
“Well, Mr.Williamson is missing out,” Fritz said, “Does he even have a first name by the way? I feel awkward calling him Mr.Whatshamacallsitface all the time.”
“Excuse us for being formal. To be honest I never really thought of that. We’ll figure it out,” Zooey said while digging around the sofa for something to change into.
“Oh, by the way,” she said from under the armchair, “Nasa called me this morning.”
“That guy that looked eerily like the singer from The Smiths?” Fritz asked.
“Morrissey? Yeah, that Nasa guy. Anyway, he’s coming over tonight,” Zooey said, this time from underneath the sofa.
“Ooh, Mr. Williamson’s gonna be jealouss,” Fritz smirked.
“We have an open relationship,” Zooey said.
“You’re still wearing your clothes from last night?” Fritz looked at Zooey curiously.
“I must of fallen asleep in them on the couch,” she said pulling off Fritz’s t-shirt and tossing it to him. She picked up another t-shirt that had been draped on the sofa and pulled it on hastily.
“You’re actually going to wear a t-shirt that says The Smiths on it, are you trying to be ironic?” Fritz laughed.
“Oh,” she said looking down at the shirt, “I didn’t notice that it was. Well, it will be a good conversation starter when Nasa comes over.” Zooey began rushing around kicking things back under the sofa and straightening the piles of accumulated papers on the coffee table.
“Are you ready?” she said to Fritz, who was watching Mr.Williamson try and attack a paintbrush on the floor.
“Yeah, sure. Hey, have you made any coffee lately?” He said peeking in the kitchen, and then into the hallway.
“No, I’ll get around to it,” she said, brushing stray hairs from her face and pushing Fritz towards the door.