In the anthology: The Tyranny of Bacon. This poem was written with my local deli in mind—up on Hegeman and Amboy, I believe. It was the first place I had lunch out with my friends in Elementary School. A Kosher deli, of course, so no way bacon was on the menu.
Breakfast All Day
When I was eight
I was finally allowed
to go the four blocks
to Ernies
for breakfast out
with Joel and Marvin
It was as…
How often do ads actually make you happy? I saw one that did. I came across the below. Suddenly, I realized…it involved me! It was about tall…ish Pure Slush Vol. 11 and my story “Tony Robbins Told Fred to Follow Others’ Dreams Instead of His Own Because They Thought Bigger” included therein. Maybe you should think about checking it out to celebrate: paperback – http://bit.ly/tallbk ePub eBook –…
As is my preference, AU from the end of S4 so that Kurt went home from Burt’s happy diagnosis and picked up his life and relationship where he’d left off.
~*~*~*~*~
“Hullo, Kurt.”
Kurt smiled automatically at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice as he picked up the phone call. “Hi, Adam. I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight. One of the girls in Free Sing had tickets to “A Trivial Matter”, but she can’t attend because of work, so she offered them to me!”
“Oh, erm, I can’t. I mean, I would love to go, but I’m rather busy tonight.”
The smile fell. “Oh. I guess I should have expected that since I kind of sprang it on you.” He was a little surprised though. The show was a musical comedy being put on by a troupe of actors that Adam was a huge fan of. He’d been talking about wanting to see the production ever since it went into previews and Kurt had been sure he’d be over the moon for a chance to go. “What do you have going on? Something important, I’m guessing.”
“Just taking care of a little something I picked up,” he said vaguely, then Kurt distinctly heard him whisper, “Hush, darling. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Darling? A pang of pain flashed through Kurt, followed an instant later by jealousy. Was Adam too busy to go out with him tonight because he was seeing someone else? Someone with whom he was sharing an intimate evening?
“Who are you talking to, Adam?” he said stiffly.
While it was true that he and Adam had never formally declared themselves to be exclusive, he had believed that to be a given when Adam had made his beautiful speech about not wanting to be a rebound relationship. Kurt had thought that meant he was serious about the two of them. Certainly, Kurt had been when he’d accepted that brave offer of hand and heart. But maybe he was just a silly romantic anomaly, and other guys were all the same.
A soft sigh hissed down the phone connection. “I seem to have picked up a roommate,” Adam said. “And I’m not quite certain what I’m going to do about her.”
The tone of his voice; rueful and fond, rather than evasive or guilty; and the unexpected feminine pronoun, instantly brought Kurt up short and pulled him out of his quick-sinking pit of hurt feelings. “What?”
“Would you mind holding for a moment, sweetheart?” Adam said distractedly.
Before Kurt could reply, he’d set the phone down somewhere and was talking once again to his visitor, whomever it might be. Kurt strained to hear what they were saying. Adam seemed to be trying to placate this person. He could hear, “All right, darling. Calm down. Here we are.” From Adam’s guest he could make out no words, just a high-pitched and demanding cry.
Before Adam picked up the phone again, Kurt began to smile, suddenly having a much better idea of what was going on. “Did you adopt a cat?” he blurted, as soon as he heard his boyfriend pick up the line again.
“It seems that way,” he said with a laugh. “I found the poor little darling crouched under one of the decorative shrubs in front of my apartment building this morning. It was raining like anything, and she just looked so miserable and cold and hungry.”
“That you had to take her in,” Kurt surmised, beyond grateful that he had not spoken his relationship paranoia out loud. He would have looked as foolish as he felt. Of course Adam was not cheating on him! The big-hearted Englishman who took in stray students (and cats!) and gave them a place to belong, the man who offered his heart on a platter without any guarantee of reciprocity would never do something so awful. “Do you think someone lost her?”
He sighed again, sounding rather sad. “I fear that they may have tossed her away. I took her round to all the flats in my building but nobody claimed her. The landlady believes she belonged to a family that moved out a few weeks ago. All she had to her name was a bedraggled ribbon around her neck. No collar or tags, and she’s terribly thin. Miserable sods, I’d like to wring their bloody necks. This is no condition at all for anyone, much less an expectant mother.”
“She’s pregnant?” Kurt instantly felt his anger grow towards that unknown family who had presumably evicted their pet because they did not want to deal with a litter of kittens. “Oh, the poor thing! She must’ve found her way back from wherever they left her, hoping to be reunited with her family. Good thing you found her when you did. Is she very far along?”
“Well I’m no expert, but I would guess that it can’t be more than a week until her time. I’ve made her a little bed out of a laundry basket and some old jumpers, and I’ve been feeding her bits of that chicken dish you made for me. Sorry if that wasn’t quite the use you intended for your gourmet feast, but my furry friend decidedly approves of it.”
Kurt smiled at the note of teasing in his voice. He tended to get a bit carried away when he was showing off his culinary skills and he had made enough chicken ala king to feed an army. “She has good taste. Do you need any help? I could come over.”
Adam hesitated. “But the show. You shouldn’t miss out just because I am.”
“I can leave the tickets for Rachel. I’m sure she can find someone to go with and I’d rather be with you,” Kurt said. It was true. Even though he had been looking forward to the production all day, he knew that he would not enjoy it nearly as much without Adam. “Besides, I want to meet your new roommate. I’m actually pretty good with cats.”
“Are you?” he asked with interest. “I wasn’t aware that you had any experience with them. I could certainly use some. I’m at a bit of a loss here.”
Kurt was already gathering up his keys, wallet, coat, and metro card. “We had a cat when I was little,” he said, “and I have a friend who’s nuts for them. I’ll be happy to help in whatever way I can.”
Sounding a little less stressed already just at knowing help was on the way, he said, “I appreciate this, Kurt.”
Scribbling a quick note for Rachel and grabbing his bag, Kurt locked the door behind him, hurried downstairs and turned in the direction of the nearest subway station. “No problem. I’ll see you soon.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Adam’s new friend was a sleek, short-haired black cat with a sweet face and big green eyes. Her fur was a little matted, though Adam had done his best to help with the aid of an old hair-brush, and her body was clearly much too thin around the bulging expanse of her belly.
Sitting on the floor next to her makeshift bed, Kurt gently stroked the little feline. After only a few minutes, he was already half in love. He had stopped by a pet store in Adam’s neighborhood, assuming he would not have had time to go out and shop, and purchased some dry kibble, a litter box and sand, several toys, and a heating pad.
Adam was very grateful for the supplies, particularly the box since he’d already had to sacrifice his favorite houseplant to the needs of his guest.
The cat seemed uninterested in the upgrade, or the toys, but she had taken to the heating pad immediately, lying on it and purring happily.
“Seems you’ve made a good impression,” Adam said, smiling as he watched them together.
Kurt grinned at him. “That’s good, considering that we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I assume you do intend to keep her?”
“I’d like to,” he admitted. “I just hope I can afford whatever she’s going to need. Additional supplies, vet visits, spaying services when the time comes. I don’t have the first clue where to find a competent veterinarian in this area, particularly one I can afford. And I’ll need to find good homes for the kittens once they’re fully weaned.”
“I’ll bet some of the Apples will be willing to adopt a couple,” Kurt said, loving this man even more for anticipating the need to give his new pet the best possible care. “And if they can’t take them, I know plenty of people at school who’d be willing to put the word out. My building isn’t pet-friendly, or I’d offer to take one myself. Santana and Rachel both like animals.”
Adam folded himself down to sit cross-legged on the floor, scratching the cat’s ears. “I’d appreciate it. How many do you think we’ll get?”
Kurt shrugged. “Probably four or five.” Stroking one bulging side, he said, “And I think you were being a little bit conservative on your estimate of a week. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has her babies in the next day or two.”
Adam looked alarmed. “Oh, dear.”
“Don’t worry. With any luck at all, everything will go smoothly and you’ll have a little cat family living with you sometime in the next 48 hours.” Kurt smiled at the contented looking cat, knowing that she had already experience a lucky break in being found by Adam. “By the way, does she have a name yet?”
“Not really. I’ve just been calling her darling when I speak to her.” He smiled. “Perhaps you could come up with something better.”
He pondered the question. “Actually that kind of suits her. What do you think, Darling? Do you like that name?”
The cat squinched her eyes at him, apparently content with the new moniker.
“I have an idea about the vet services too,” Kurt told Adam. “Elliott is studying Veterinary Medicine at NYU. He doesn’t graduate until next spring, but I’m sure he’d be willing to look her over for you. And the plus is that since he doesn’t have his license yet, he’ll probably do it for free. He can put cat midwifery on his resume.”
Adam laughed. He had met the members of the little indie band Kurt had started earlier this year, and had no doubt that the cheerful and laid-back band mate would do just that. “If you think he’d be willing, I’d appreciate that.”
~*~*~*~*~
As expected, Elliott had been more than willing to swing by and conduct an examination. Darling was in fairly good condition for her circumstances. Just a little undernourished and flea-bitten. He had recommended a good medication for the latter and made additional suggestions on food. Then he felt around the cat’s womb and gave an educated guess that Adam should expect five kittens, also confirming Kurt’s diagnosis of the nearness of the birth. He gave them instructions on how to proceed, telling them to trust the cat’s own nature to tell her what to do, but to call him at any time if there was a problem. As he was leaving, the grinning veterinarian-to-be proactively claimed a kitten for his medical fee.
Assured by Kurt that the request was entirely genuine, (Elliott already had a dog, a rabbit, two birds, and a hamster, but he lived by a ‘the more the merrier’ standard.) Adam had been more than willing to agree, grateful for the advice and happy to have found a good home for at least one of his new brood.
Kurt went home and packed himself some changes of outfit, telling his roommates that he would be staying with Adam for a few days, but not telling them why. He was a little embarrassed to admit to Rachel and Santana that he had essentially volunteered to sit in the maternity waiting room of a cat, but it was true. He wanted to be there to see the newborns, and he did not want the increasingly nervous Adam to have to go through the ordeal alone.
It took nearly the entire 48 hours Kurt had guessed at before Darling went into labor. The two humans watched her pace and fret, wishing they could do something to help. Eventually, she retreated to the tiny closet of Adam’s bedroom, where he had removed a box of his own clothes and several pairs of shoes to set her things in their place, obeying Elliott’s recommendation to prepare a warm darkly lit space for the birthing.
Adam and Kurt stood in the bedroom, peeking around the edge of the closet door in fascination as over the course of the next two hours, one by one, the brood of kittens was born, cleaned up by their mother, and settled into place against her belly.
“Oh, Adam, look at them,” Kurt cooed, staring starry-eyed at the weakly moving babies emitting soft squeaks and whimpers as they searched out the source of nourishment. “They’re so tiny!”
“Absolutely precious,” he agreed, awed by the little miracle he had just witnessed.
They stood watching for a long while, knowing enough not to impose themselves on the protective mother but unable to tear themselves away from the adorable picture the little family made. Two of the kittens were black like their mother, two more were gray-striped with white paws, and the last-born had a smoky gray coat.
“I think we should probably leave them alone for a little while. Let me take you out to celebrate your new status as a kitten grandfather,” Kurt teased, giving him a tight hug as the only possible way to express his emotions. Seeing Adam’s slightly worried gaze stray back towards the closet, he promised, “Don’t worry. We won’t go far. Maybe just down to the corner to grab a couple of burgers from Marco’s.”
“Are you sure they’ll be all right?” he asked, rubbing a hand across his stomach in an absent-minded way that told Kurt he was indeed hungry, but also reluctant to leave his new charges.
“Yes, honey, they’ll be fine. The food and water bowls are full, and close enough that she won’t have to move far to get a drink or a bite to eat,” Kurt reminded him. “She has warmth, shelter, privacy … everything a new mother needs. And all the kittens need right now is her.”
Adam sighed wistfully. “Right. I know we can’t handle them for a few weeks yet, but it’s going to be awfully difficult to resist.”
Kurt smiled, picturing Adam sprawling on the floor happily covered in playful kittens. He could already foresee that his boyfriend was going to have a difficult time parting with them when the time came. “I know,” he said, patting him on the chest, “but you’ll have a couple of months with them before they’re ready to go out into the world. And we’ll try to find homes that you can visit.”
He laughed. “You know me all too well, don’t you?”
“I’ll bet you’ve already named them all in your head,” Kurt agreed. Not that he was any better. He was already speculating about whether he could talk his landlord into letting him keep the adorable gray kitten that he had mentally dubbed Dior.
“I … may have done,” Adam admitted sheepishly.
They took one last look into the closet, where the new family appeared to be settling into contented sleep. The new mother blinked up at the two humans and uttered a soft mew.
Careful not to crowd her, Adam leaned down and gave the cat’s ears a gentle stroke. “There’s my girl,” he murmured. “You have a beautiful little brood.”
Kurt also gave the cat a light pat. “Good job, mama.”
The cat mewed again, as if thanking them for their help, then wrapped her warm body around the kittens and settled down to sleep.
As they backed out of the room, leaving the family to their well deserved rest, Kurt could have sworn that there was a smile on Darling’s face.
I... might have a working idea for CampNaNo in April (which will also function as my "write the first draft for Pure Slush" month). A couple, maybe, even. Of course now would be the time I want to write fantasy, when the only hard and fast requirement of the work is that it has to be set in modern times (and actually even slightly in the future, seeing as I have to write it in 2014!). The general plot of the idea is adjustable to today's times, though. We'll see. I'll draft the first bit out and see if I like it enough to write about it eleven more times after that.
The lovely Pure Slush asked me some swell questions when they published my short story, “Girl With Crescent Smile.” Look for the story in the third set of showcased linked stories, The Charlie Stories.
PS: What is your favourite colour? Why?
DG: Green. Luck of the Irish? Gatsby’s dream? Sexiest M&M? Also, go.
PS: Do you wear this colour? How often and when?
DG: I have many green shirts, yes. My favorite: old NY Jets T-shirt. A pair of underwear, too. They’re comfy.
PS: What does the colour suggest to you?
DG: “Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us.”
PS: What does it not suggest to you?
DG: Envy, or the effects of gamma radiation.
PS: How long has it been your favourite colour?
DG: Green Eggs and Ham
PS: When does it work best?
DG: “In brightest day, and blackest night…”
PS: When does it not work for you?
DG: Peucetia viridans
PS: How does the colour relate to you, or you relate to it?
DG: We’ve had relations.
PS: Are you this colour or is this colour you?
DG: Viridis means “green,” as well as “lively,” or “youthful”: we are one another.
Randall was done with being Randall. He turned out his nightlight and lay face down on his bed. If not Randall, then what? A chunk of boxite? An apple pop-tart? A brilliant flash in the mind of a forgotten poet? An iron pot, the nest of hair in his parents’ shower drain? Love American Style, an electron searching for its mate, a kitchen table, the number four?
At the thought of becoming an even number, the soft blond down on Randall’s arms stiffened. He’d always envied the number four with its symmetry and its squatty complaisance. It had no deviant whims or passions. It was as innocent as a yoga tree pose, and even a kid could count to it.
Yet he’d be merely a number, wouldn’t he? He’d be stripped. Handless, eyeless, mouthless and manless. He’d be a stumpy hunk of fourteen-year-oldlessness—in effect Randalllessness. Then there was the problem of forever being stunted and boxy. Squatty, however, was better than spindly any day. He’d had enough of spindly.
Yet—Randall turned his pillow to the cool side—four-letter words and four-eyed geeks had sullied 4’s reputation. There was always that pop-tart and the forgotten poet’s forgotten thought. But all these options had a use-by date, except maybe Love American Style in syndication. (Would he be the whole series or just one show?) No, the number four was his best bet: it had longevity.
“Or that electron,” he whispered, “searching for its mate. A mate would be nice.”
“Randy?” his mother was calling.
He held his breath. The number four probably wouldn’t reply to a mother it probably wouldn’t have and especially not one who criticized the way he dressed and the “sassy” way he talked and the way he sang Blondie songs with a hairbrush mic.
“Randy?” She was standing at his bedroom door.
The number four would be so easy to understand. For one thing, it would have no gender to question. It would be solid and would never think of ending itself. It wouldn’t even think of thinking! Yet neither would the iron pot or the kitchen table. But did he really want to be in the kitchen that much, scrubbed and scoured by his mother? No, the number four it was. After all, who’s ever told the number four, “You think too much” or “You walk like a girl” or “There’s something not quite right with you”?
“Randall Mason Black!” She was pounding on the door now.
A lipless smile spread over the world where Randall Mason Black no longer lived, where Randall Mason Black no longer fielded feral questions, where Randall Mason Black would never again sing harmonies with Blondie or feel odd in any way. The number four didn’t need to feel anything but boxy, solid and even.
[Published in: Pure Slush. Photo: The American Girl, Marilyn Monroe by Milton Greene, 1954.]
Pure Slush has released its first print anthology: SLUT! Packed with gorgeous writing--including work from former and future fwriction : review contributors Len Kuntz, Matt Potter, Karen Eileen Sikola, Susan Tepper, Nathaniel Tower, and Meg Tuite--the anthology is available here!
