Imaginary conversation about cats

How do you feel about cats?

Cats? You know how I feel about cats. I hate cats.

Hate is such a strong word.

What did you do?

Do? What do you mean what did I do?

Did you get a fucking cat?

I don’t think a cat would be fucking, necessarily. I mean, one cat? It wouldn’t even be possible for it to..

Did you get a non-fucking cat?

Why would I get a cat? You hate cats.

I’m starting to hate you, too.

Are not. You love me. It doesn’t matter what I do. You can’t help it. Even if I bought a cat, you’d love me. An expensive cat. A fancy Dijon cat. Why are you pretending to bang your head against the wall?

You suck.

I do. That’s one of the reasons you love me.

Incorrigible, you are.

I really am.



The cat.

What cat? There is no cat, Neo.

Oh, good.

But if there was a cat, rhetorically speaking…a black one, with a white Hitler mustache. How would you feel about it?

Bad. I would feel bad.

Why would you feel bad about a rhetorical cat?

None of this even has a point, does it?

Why do you look so discouraged? You keep saying I should talk more. I’m practicing.

To other people. You should talk more to other people.

Other people don’t understand when I talk about imaginary cats.


See? You do understand me!

I…oh, God. I did understand that. And stop smiling.

It makes me happy when people understand me. When I’m happy, I smile. You like it when I’m happy, don’t you?

I do.

I didn’t get a cat.

That’s a relief.

I got 2 pairs of shoes instead. Red ones.

Of course you did, because you couldn’t get a cat.

No one understands me like you do, baby.

What did you get me?

Vodka, a bag of grapefruit, and a very nice pair of argyle socks. I accidentally turned all of the grapefruit into juice, so we should probably start drinking it right away. It’s practically an emergency.

You understand me pretty well, too.

You wouldn’t have looked nearly this happy if I’d gotten a cat.

I’d still be pretty happy.

Because I’d still have bought you the vodka. Probably an even better one…

We’ll go with that.

I knew what you meant, George.

I know you did, baby.

As the worm turns, an imaginary conversation

You don’t scare me, you know.

Do too.

Aren’t you going to ask me why?



About why you aren’t scared of me?


You are scared of me. I terrify you.

Terrify is a strong word. Sometimes I don’t know quite what to make of you. Puzzled is different from scared.

Why are you puzzled?

You don’t react to things like a normal person. Conversation tends to go all wonky.

What do you mean?

Well, right now things are pretty normal. In a minute, there’s a pretty good chance that you’ll say something bizarre.

Like what?

I dunno. I’m not the one who says the weird shit.



You say weird shit all the time!

No, you do.

You are the one who starts it though.

You said you voted for Pedro when we were talking about worms.

That’s not a good example. That conversation started out weird. We were talking about worms.

I started that one, didn’t I.


You may have a point.

I prefer to think of myself as well rounded. And don’t raise your eyebrow at me.

I can’t help it. It’s an autonomous nerve response, like breathing.

You made that up.


Isn’t that like lying?

No, it’s like storytelling.

Is it a fine line?

Did you think for even a second that the movement of my eyebrow is not something I am able to control?


Then it’s not a fine line.

That is NOT how that works.

I’m not the one who started talking about worms!

Tequila. You brought worms into it. Although it’s an admittedly logical progression.

See? Normal.

But then you started talking about someone’s second van the hospital.

Not my fault. That was the phone. I told you Siri does weird shit.

And it was funny.


What are we talking about, anyway?

Why you scare me.

Now you’re just making stuff up.


That’s my line.

You’ll share it though, right.

Only if you tell me a story.

Once upon a time?

That’s a start….