The Shirt Off Your Back - Chapter 4

Rolling Right Along - Chapter 3  (18+) The adventure at the zoo takes yet another odd turn. #1643423 by audra_branson

Chapter 4

"This little shit diarrhea-ed all over me!" I held the ball of matted feces at arm’s length. Its pleading eyes registered confusion and begged for forgiveness for whatever it had innocently done to generate such a response.

"Oh my poor babies," Ken cooed over me and the kitten, who was now scratching my arms in panic.

"Ken, please just take me home. I've had all the fun I can take for one day." I had no sarcasm left in me. No wittiness, no resolve to make the best of the day, no delusions that things couldn't get any worse. I was waving the white flag, however stained it may be.

"No, no, no. Don't be silly, my love. I'll take care of it all. I saw a vender selling t-shirts, and I'm sure we can get a box of some sort to carry Sheila in."

"Sheila?"

"Yes, I named her. Doesn't she look like a Sheila?" He was fondly petting the kitten covered with poo.

"Sure, I guess. Please, let’s just go. You and Sheila can live happily ever after, and I can crawl in bed with a bottle of merlot."

"Mmmmm, you, me, and merlot. You are a frisky thing, aren't you?"

How is it that this man only ever heard half of what I said? Selective hearing or pure ignorance? More than likely both. Had I really found him intriguing on the phone? Had his emails and text messages really convinced me I had hit the jackpot of the internet dating world?

“I don’t think a lot of movement will be good for Sheila’s delicate tummy right now. I bet it was the bumpy ride in the wheelchair that did it to her anyway. By the way, how is your ankle? It doesn’t quite look as grotesquely swollen as before. You two stay put and rest. I’ll just run get you that shirt from the vendor.”

“Ken?”

“No arguments. I don’t mind at all.”

“Ken?”

“What, Darling?”

“You don’t have any money, remember?” I waited with bated breath for his response.

“Well, I did notice a credit card in your purse when I was getting the paramedic your medical information.”

“You went through my purse!” How could I have missed that? Oh yes, pain and repulsion cause me to lose focus sometimes.

My choices were limited. I could let Ken, my date that was making less than an impressive first impression, take my credit card to get me a new shirt or I could continue to smell worse than the animals at the zoo. Without resolve, I dug in my purse for the third time on this date, wishing as I reached for the credit card that I would magically find just one more pain pill. No such luck.

Ken plopped stinky Sheila back on my lap and dashed off to find a shirt and something that could be converted into a cat carrier. Sitting in a wheelchair with an elevated ankle, cat caca on my shirt, and a kitten covered in its own waste, I was getting glances that led me to the conclusion that some people might think I was a little on the insane side or perhaps homeless. Yes, of course. “The Crazy Cat Lady Visits the Zoo” – the book would be on the best seller list before the end of the month.

“Don’t you love it?” Again, Ken’s self-pride shone through my thoughts of self-pity.

“No.”

“No? Are you kidding? It was the last one. I had to talk a grandma out of buying it so I could get it just for you.”

“Ken, it says ‘I Heart the Zoo’. Now follow me here. Do I like the zoo?”

“Well, I thought it might be growing on you.”

“The only thing that seems to be growing on me is bacteria from the butt slime your Sheila spewed on me!”

Dead silence followed my temper tantrum. Even Sheila looked embarrassed to be seen with me. And not an ounce of me cared that the entire zoo was staring at us. I had not signed on for this. Even nice girls have a breaking point, and I never claimed to be nice.

“Ken, give me your shirt, and you wear that one.”

He chuckled. “What?”

“I’m not kidding. Take your shirt off and put the zoo lover grandma shirt on. I want yours. Quit smiling! I’m not joking.” The evil eye that usually had my students quaking with fear was lost on Ken.

His chuckling grew into a deep, side-splitting laugh. “Tell you what. I’ll race you for it.” And with that he grabbed Sheila and was off running.

“I’m in a wheelchair, you moron!”

Somehow the competitive nature and desire to have him sacrifice his own shirt took over me. Gripping the wheels on the wheelchair, I looked like a gold medal Special Olympian. Children flew into the arms of their nannies; birds squawked from trees cheering me on. The theme to Chariots of Fire began playing somewhere. Sweat flew from my brow, but I never lost sight of the goal. I would beat this non-clad underwear man and his sidekick Sheila. His shirt would be mine, of that I had no doubt. Bump after bump, my ankle screamed in pain, but my heart told me I was gaining on him.

He was mocking me, stopping to talk to the animals, as I pushed on with arms of lead. Finally, I was next to him, leaning forward so I could gain an edge. He had the audacity to laugh at my attempts. Taking a step behind me, he gripped the handle bars, slowing me to a halt.

“Okay, Angel. You win. You can have my shirt.” He could barely breathe from his laughter; I could barely breathe from exertion. “Here’s your credit card back.”

Panic hit me. “Where’s my purse?”

Words - 970

Total - 3716