Five minutes later and Smiley was back in his bedroom, contemplating whether to call in sick or not. A cat. It was bright in contrast to his dull, grimy walls and overall dirty surroundings. He didn't bother looking at it as it crawled in the open window and onto his multi-coloured bed sheet alongside him.
"Hello," it, the cat, greeted.
"Go away," sighed Smiley.
"Late for work?" it asked.
"You'd better get ready."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"You're a cat. Not even a real cat, at that."
"And you're not as bright as I thought you'd be." The cat turned away and crawled into the open cupboard. Smiley sighed, stood up and approached the small cupboard. He reached in, his overly large hand shoving completely useless junk out of the way as he searched for his tweed jacket. He continued to rummage, getting frustrated more and more, now ignoring the cat that was smiling at him from across the room. He found something. A purple unicycle with a punctured tire. He tossed it away, breaking his window and making a car alarm go off outside.
"Looking for this?" asked the cat as he dropped the tweed jacket on the bed. Smiley closed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw. Turned around and saw the cat was gone. He grabbed a coffee-stained shirt and brown trousers and put them on, followed by his jacket. One of the elbow patches were missing. He checked all his pockets for his tie but couldn't find it so decided to go without. Down the creaky stairs and out of the door that was mysteriously missing a hinge, his big, floppy red shoes squelching on the wet floor outside.