Donald Hefeweizen Saves The World (pt.6)

“Good Lord, Donald, could you have found an uglier car? It’s your fault, you know. Stevens’ll sue you for sure for this one.”

“I had a great day, Mr. Buttons. Thanks for asking.” Donald turned toward the front door of his mustard-yellow 1970’s ranch-style house. He had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a wet-bar in the living room. He was proud of his home.

His neighbors thought it was a boil on the face of their restored, gentrified neighborhood. Which is to say – they’d all repainted and installed hardwood floors and central air, while Donald had held the line on modernization. His house still had window units. And shag carpeting. Original.

Mr. Buttons, the faux-feline, scampered ahead of the man, with an impatient twitch of its tail. Glaring over is left shoulder, it mewed, “I hate it when you call me Mr. Buttons. Hate it!”

“Well, what else should I call you?”

“Doug. You should call me Doug.”

“You keep saying that. Is Mom home?” Donald shared his ranch-style house with his mother, whom he resembled in all but personality.

“She’s out with her girlfriends. Playing Bingo. But, they’ll probably go to La Bare afterward. I hope I’m that much fun when I’m her age.”

“You are her age.”

“Hmph.” With that, Mr. Buttons, aka Doug, flopped onto his side and began grooming his backside. With feeling. While staring at Hefeweizen.

Donald mumbled something sounding vaguely like “stupid cat” and proceeded down the hall into his living room. Setting down his briefcase, he tugged his tie loose, and headed for the wet-bar.

“I’m not a cat, you know.”

“You keep telling me that. Contrary to all appearances.”

“Oh, come one. You know I’m not really a cat. The same way you know that woman you promoted is not really a human.”

“How did you know about Jessica?” Donald stammered and nearly dropped his Old Fashioned. (Easy on the vermouth, extra cherries.)

“I know a lot of things Donald Hefeweizen. You should probably sit down for this one.” The faux-cat paused and took a deep breath. “Jessica Michaellson is the anti-Christ.”

. . . to be continued.

(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton

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