Rorschach's Journal, 9:27pm. Long day observing Art Museum. Various nondescript characters entering and exiting building. Discreet moving truck arrived out back. Michelangelo's finally arriving, piece by piece.
Spotted couple of men. Obvious gang members. Entered art museum. Made note of it.
No food today.
Sitting in apartment reviewing New Frontiersmen. Knock on door.
"Hey, Kovaks, it's the 12th, he's here!"
Landlord stands in doorway. Box in one arm. Bag of something and tray in other.
"Your kitten, just like we talked about."
Hands me box, bag of food and litter tray. Leaves.
Kitten, nearly one year old. Average brown tabby. Eyes, yellow. I can't take care of a kitten. Will dump in alley later. Put box down and pick up newspaper.
"Mew?"
Small yellow eyes look up. Cat encircles ankle. Pick cat up. Looks interesting. It purrs. Warmth. Softness.
A name. Need a name. Truman. No. Max. No. James. James, I imagined perhaps my father's name. Yes. James.
"Mew."
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"Mew."
ReplyDeleteKnew there was reason why I trusted you so quickly.
As for the food . . . you've got to eat! You can't be an effective mask without proper nourishment. We can work something out. Let me know.
~ Welsh "I've got my sources" Dragon
Dear Welsh Dragon,
ReplyDeleteI thank you for your concern. I get by, though days when I don't eat are difficult. I will be sure to call upon you if I am in need of nourishment.
I have found the people in DC, though deplorable, to be a bit more generous in donations. There is more opportunity to afford a meal these days. And even, some throw money at me when I break someone's finger! I am amazed, it's almost as if they enjoy the show!
For now, Rorschach