Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Hags Episode 8
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Micah admired a pair of well-formed legs on his front porch as he returned from Bob’s Coffee Emporium. Above the female thighs, he appreciated the beauty of the woman in her short pink silk robe.
“May I help you?” Micah walked up the steps to stand behind her.
“You stole my cat.” The top of the woman’s dark brunette hair reached below Micah’s shoulders. She carried a few pounds beyond a perfect figure. “Are you the new dude?”
“I’m a new guy in town.”
The young woman pointed to the house next door with her thumb. “We’re neighbors. What are you doing with my cat?”
Micah dropped his eyes to the faded gray wood floor of the porch. He mumbled, “Didn’t steal anyone’s cat.”
“I can hear him meow inside your house. I’d recognize Fritz’s call anywhere. He puts an ‘R’ in it.”
Micah scratched his head. “Somebody’s cat stole me. Made me feed him milk. He meows with a lisp, you know.”
“You poison my cat?”
“I have a worse confession.” Micah reached for his keys.
“You killed him already and that’s his ghost I hear?”
“No. I let him sleep with me. He must have snuck in after the police found that body. Hope you’re not the jealous type.”
She stamped her right foot and pouted. She smiled. “A little, maybe. What about the police?”
“The body out back last night. Didn’t the police wake you with their noise?”
“Once I’m down for the night, that’s it. You saw a body? A dead person?”
“I can read about it in the newspaper. And I’m sure the cops will canvas the neighborhood. So unless you plan to stop me, I’ll collect my cat.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Come on in.” Micah unlocked the door and waited while the young woman stepped into his house. The feminine aroma of flowered perfume wisped the air as she passed. The cat ran up the stairs as Micah entered. The girl charged up the steps in pursuit of the cat while her robe flew up to present an image of pink silkiness beneath.
Micah headed for the kitchen where he picked up the empty bowl of milk. When he reached for the red bowl, it was filled with blood. Around the bowl, more blood was splashed. Micah gasped and backed against the counter. He put the milk bowl in the sink.
“I have him,” said a feminine voice from above.
Micah listened to the patter of bare feet down the steps and smiled at the appearance of the young lady in the kitchen.
“Thanks for taking care of Fritz. And I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re not the catnapper I took you for.” She reached out her hand.
“Your cat caught his own breakfast.” Micah pointed down at the red bowl of blood.
“Looks like a bowl of water.” The girl’s eyes formed question marks that captured Micah’s own inquisitive eyes.
Micah glanced down again. The blood was missing.
“Nice eyes.” The girl touched Micah on the arm. He jumped.
Micah wiped a hand across his face. “Sorry. I… I… don’t like to be touched, ma’am.”
“Not touching could take the fun out of a relationship.” The girl petted her cat.
“That kind of touching is cool. I mean the surprise kind, like now.” Micah dropped his eyes to the floor where he checked out the girl’s bright red toenails.
“Look at me.”
Micah looked up until his eyes met the girl’s.
“Like I said, you have nice eyes and I don’t give many compliments.”
“Wh…wha… what did you say?”
“Brown. I love dark brown eyes. Most girls like movie star blue, but I’m all about dark pools of liquid love.”
Micah’s eyes pointed to the floor again. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“Oh, please, stop calling me ‘ma’am. My name is Miss Appleby. You may call me Denise if you like. I live next door.” She extended her hand for the second time.
Micah gave her hand a gentle shake.
Denise dropped Micah’s hand. “I’m leaving now.”
Micah shook his head while struggling to keep his smile from slipping off his face.
“Goodbye.” Denise headed for the front door. She stopped and spun around. “What’s your name? Fritz will want to know.”
“I already told him.”
“Just kidding, ma’am. I’m Micah Probert.”
“That’s not a name you hear everyday.”
“I hope not.”
“Are you famous, Mr. Probert? Your name sounds familiar.”
“Famous is not the right word.”
“So how long have you lived in Naperville, ma’am? And call me Micah, okay?”
“Okay, Micah, if you promise to stop calling me ‘ma’am. See you later.” Denise managed to close the door behind her without spilling the cat, or at least without spilling it as far as Micah could tell from his position in the kitchen by the sink.
“That long, eh?” Micah picked up the red water bowl from the floor. The blood had returned.
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