better than she had before standing under the hot shower for twenty
minutes.
"Come on, let's see if I remembered to set up
the coffee maker--no, I can see that I didn't," Lisanne said as she yanked the
basket containing used grounds out of the machine to dump in the garbage. The
can of coffee clattered as it was almost dropped to the floor and then caught.
Coffee grounds flew across the countertop as her hands shook, measuring grounds
into the coffee maker. Pouring cold water to the ten-cup level was an endeavor
involving both hands to steady the pot of water. Finally, breathing a sigh of
relief, Lisanne pushed the ON button and sank to the black linoleum floor,
resting her head against the lavender painted cabinet doors at her back.
Merlin meowed.
"You actually expect me to stand up...you do, I
can see that...."
Standing in the center of the kitchen, Merlin
fixed a golden-eyed stare on Lisanne where she sat slumped in her black silk
teddy.
"You are a pain, you know that? You really are."
Merlin meowed and glared.
"I'm telling you I'm not getting up from here
until the coffee is done."
Merlin took a step toward her.
"I mean it. I'm too tired...." Merlin meowed. "Okay,
okay--I'm too hung over to move an inch, a millimeter from this spot."
The aroma of coffee wafted through the
air-conditioned apartment.
Merlin growled.
"Look, I don't even know if I can stand
upright--there are three of you in my sight right now and that can't be a good
sign. I'm probably brain damaged, you know. So much alcohol--so little time."
She laughed. "I crack myself up."
Merlin pounced.
"Hey, get off me, you jerk! All right already, I'll
get your food. You know, you have no respect for my still slightly inebriated
condition," she said, enunciating slowly as she pulled herself up, using the
counter's edge for balance.
The condominium apartment in Fort Walton Beach,
Florida, had been purchased by Lisanne with proceeds from her mother's life
insurance policy. Lauranne Locklin, the mother of all mothers as Lisanne liked
to call her, had died nine months previous from a fall. Lisanne still dreamed
of taking credit for the death, but Lauranne had managed to fall down the
stairs all by herself after drinking her usual quart of evening vodka. Lisanne
was the only beneficiary of the life insurance policy which netted $300,000.
The money was a shock, as Lauranne had never planned for anything, but Lisanne
finally decided that her mother probably kept paying the premiums each month
without realizing what she was paying for. The policy had originally been taken
out by Lisanne's father, who left five years after his daughter's birth.
Beauregard Locklin, Beau to everyone, departed after finding greener pastures,
namely a richer wife. Beau had been killed in a hunting accident a few years
prior to Lauranne's death, so Lisanne was alone in the world, except for
Merlin.
The condominium's living room contained a futon
couch covered in a floral print of predominantly purple colors. The high pile
shag carpeting was black, along with the desk and chair, which were situated in
front of sliding glass doors that opened onto the white sandy beaches of the
Gulf of Mexico. The room's only other ornamentation was a large lavender floor
vase filled with sea oats, spray-painted black, collected in defiance of posted
endangered species signs.
Lisanne stumbled across the living room to
collapse into the desk chair in front of her computer. Sipping coffee from a
mug emblazoned with the phrase, 'Don't even think of saying Good Morning,' she
positioned her chair to survey the rolling waves outside. As her alcohol fogged
brain woke up, Lisanne knew she was in trouble. This many hangovers in a month
were too many.
"Merlin," she called, "if you're through
stuffing your face, come in here so we can talk." Morning conversations with
the cat had become a way to think things through. She liked being able to think
out loud and not be judged for anything she said. Although
minutes.
"Come on, let's see if I remembered to set up
the coffee maker--no, I can see that I didn't," Lisanne said as she yanked the
basket containing used grounds out of the machine to dump in the garbage. The
can of coffee clattered as it was almost dropped to the floor and then caught.
Coffee grounds flew across the countertop as her hands shook, measuring grounds
into the coffee maker. Pouring cold water to the ten-cup level was an endeavor
involving both hands to steady the pot of water. Finally, breathing a sigh of
relief, Lisanne pushed the ON button and sank to the black linoleum floor,
resting her head against the lavender painted cabinet doors at her back.
Merlin meowed.
"You actually expect me to stand up...you do, I
can see that...."
Standing in the center of the kitchen, Merlin
fixed a golden-eyed stare on Lisanne where she sat slumped in her black silk
teddy.
"You are a pain, you know that? You really are."
Merlin meowed and glared.
"I'm telling you I'm not getting up from here
until the coffee is done."
Merlin took a step toward her.
"I mean it. I'm too tired...." Merlin meowed. "Okay,
okay--I'm too hung over to move an inch, a millimeter from this spot."
The aroma of coffee wafted through the
air-conditioned apartment.
Merlin growled.
"Look, I don't even know if I can stand
upright--there are three of you in my sight right now and that can't be a good
sign. I'm probably brain damaged, you know. So much alcohol--so little time."
She laughed. "I crack myself up."
Merlin pounced.
"Hey, get off me, you jerk! All right already, I'll
get your food. You know, you have no respect for my still slightly inebriated
condition," she said, enunciating slowly as she pulled herself up, using the
counter's edge for balance.
The condominium apartment in Fort Walton Beach,
Florida, had been purchased by Lisanne with proceeds from her mother's life
insurance policy. Lauranne Locklin, the mother of all mothers as Lisanne liked
to call her, had died nine months previous from a fall. Lisanne still dreamed
of taking credit for the death, but Lauranne had managed to fall down the
stairs all by herself after drinking her usual quart of evening vodka. Lisanne
was the only beneficiary of the life insurance policy which netted $300,000.
The money was a shock, as Lauranne had never planned for anything, but Lisanne
finally decided that her mother probably kept paying the premiums each month
without realizing what she was paying for. The policy had originally been taken
out by Lisanne's father, who left five years after his daughter's birth.
Beauregard Locklin, Beau to everyone, departed after finding greener pastures,
namely a richer wife. Beau had been killed in a hunting accident a few years
prior to Lauranne's death, so Lisanne was alone in the world, except for
Merlin.
The condominium's living room contained a futon
couch covered in a floral print of predominantly purple colors. The high pile
shag carpeting was black, along with the desk and chair, which were situated in
front of sliding glass doors that opened onto the white sandy beaches of the
Gulf of Mexico. The room's only other ornamentation was a large lavender floor
vase filled with sea oats, spray-painted black, collected in defiance of posted
endangered species signs.
Lisanne stumbled across the living room to
collapse into the desk chair in front of her computer. Sipping coffee from a
mug emblazoned with the phrase, 'Don't even think of saying Good Morning,' she
positioned her chair to survey the rolling waves outside. As her alcohol fogged
brain woke up, Lisanne knew she was in trouble. This many hangovers in a month
were too many.
"Merlin," she called, "if you're through
stuffing your face, come in here so we can talk." Morning conversations with
the cat had become a way to think things through. She liked being able to think
out loud and not be judged for anything she said. Although
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