Meow

“When you feed a dog, it thinks ‘You’re a God.’ When you feed a cat, it thinks ‘I’m a God.’ That’s why I can’t stand those things,” she said to the bartender. Amanda looked down at her empty glass and motioned to the bartender to pour her another gin and tonic. They were the only two people in the bar besides the local drunks at Sicily’s Lounge. She was a regular there, but never during the Sunday afternoon football crowd.
“And what’s with those litter boxes. It’s piss. Who wants to keep piss in a house? I flush the toilet; you take a dog outside. But it’s ok to leave cat piss inside the house.” Amanda took another sip before continuing her rant. “Then you gotta provide scratching posts for it cause if not, it’ll screw up the furniture. It’s too much work.” The bartender looked down towards Amanda, whose peach colored bangs covered her hazel eyes and hawkish nose, and asked “Why such an aversion towards kittens?”
Dumbfounded by the bartender’s question, Amanda banged her glass on the coaster causing some liquor to fall on the marble countertop. She looked up at the bartender with a confused look on her face. “You didn’t listen to a damn word I said did you,” she grumbled. The bartender shook his head while he reached for another glass to clean. “Damn, you’re never gonna make it in this business. You guys are supposed to listen to the drunks so you’ll get a better tip,” she said, getting off the stool. The bartender reached across to grab her arm. “Wait, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep giving you free drinks if you explain why you hate cats,” he said.
“Why do you wanna listen now?” she asked staring at the hairy-knuckled bartender who had the nerve to touch her. The bartender released the girl and placed both of his palms on the counter, “Because you’re right. I’ll never make it in the business ignoring customers, especially the ones as gorgeous as you,” he finished his statement with a huge grin. Though slightly intoxicated, she had enough sense to think the bartender was coming onto her. She reached into the pocket of her flared jeans to realize there was no wallet. Amanda muttered a few words to herself about being broke, then flashed a smile before she sat back down and pointed to her empty glass. He grinned, showing his coffee stained teeth and poured her another round.
“So a month ago my girlfriend inherits her dead grandmother’s cat, Sparkles. She got it ‘cause apparently she named the stupid thing. At first, I think it’s a great idea since we don’t have kids and it would be a great experience to take care of things together. Well…”
“Wait, you’re dating a girl?” the bartender interrupts. Irritated, Amanda looks at him, then at her now empty glass. “Yeah. You wanna hear the story or not. If you do, fill my glass and don’t ask questions,” she retorted. Amanda rolled her eyes and pushed her shoulder-length hair away from her face, exposing her black tube top. The bartender smirked and poured Amanda another drink.
“Anyway, it was great idea because of all that stuff I said earlier, but after a week the house wreaked of cat piss and Meow Mix. I tried opening windows and buying air freshener, but the smell wouldn’t leave. Then Stacy, my lover, starts smelling like the thing and still wants to hang over me. I’m all for pussy, but not the kind that smells like kitty litter. Tired as hell about this cat smell, I told her this morning to ditch Sparkles if she ever wanted me to sleep with her again.
“Apparently, that upset her and the bitch ran out the room crying. So I’m lying in bed, alone and the damn kitty jumps on me. It just looks at me as if nothing happened and it has the nerve to rub itself on me,” she said.
“So what did you do?” the bartender asked while getting the 7th gin and tonic. Amanda stretched her arms, yawned, and replied “I threw the damn thing against the wall.” The bartender looked bewildered and she laughed. “What was I supposed to do? The stupid cat was ruining the best sex life I ever had. I mean you should have been with Stacy; she’s amazing.” She looked at the bartender who had now moved 8 inches from her face, possibly because the idea of lesbian sex intrigued just about every male over the age of 13. She laughed again, muttered a comment about men under breath, and then took a sip of her drink.
“So when I threw it, Sparkles knocked over the picture frame. It took the hint, so the cat scurried out the room like it was inside Mr. Lee’s China Wok. I rolled over in hopes to get more sleep, but Stacy came in a few minutes later with Sparkles. Her eyes were red from all the crying and the cat’s looking at me as if I tried to kill it,” she paused and giggled. “I did try to kill it actually, but the damn thing had no right to look at me that way.” The bartender shook his head while watching Amanda laugh histerically. After a few moments, Amanda gains composure to ask, “Where was I?”
“You tried to kill the cat,” he replied. Amanda smiled and leaned over to kiss the bartender. In the process, she spilled remaining contents of the drink. She looked down and gasped; the bartender grabbed a wet rag to clean the table.
“You’re like Mr. Clean, but with hair,” she said to him while watching the small puddle of liquor dissapear. He just looked at Amanda and smirked. After watching him, she realized her story lacked an ending.
“Ah yeah,” she started. “So Stacy starts screaming at me about how I’m inconsiderate and how I don’t care about poor kitty’s feelings. You know that hippy bullshit. While she’s yelling, I get dressed. When I finished I told her to pack her stuff and be out by the time I get back from the bar. So I’m here,” she finished.
The bartender looked at her, then the half-empty bottle of gin, and asked how she was getting home. Amanda fumbled for her car keys and fell over. The bartender rushed over to pick up the intoxicated redhead. “You’re not driving. My shift’s over now, so maybe I should take you to my place,” he said. Amanda gave him a puzzled look as she reached for the barstool. “Not to sleep with you, unless you wanted to do that. But I want to give Stacy some time to get her things. That ok?” he asked. Amanda nodded. The bartender grabbed his jacket and keys and placed Amanda’s arm over his shoulder. She smiled at him and he kissed her, but she was too drunk to realize what was going on. “Well, just to let you know, I don’t own any cats,” he told her. Amanda leaned her head back and replied, “Great, cause I hate those damn things.”