Puss in Drawers (short story)

 

Puss in Drawers

(Random 2-word prompt- concern, drawer)

 

                Someone hammered on the front door, and it shook on its hinges.

                “Urgh.”  He buried his head in his pillows, wrapping the duvet tighter around his body.  He’d been dreaming about carousels and eggs and wasn’t ready to move just yet.  It was too early, whatever time it was.

                The hammering returned, but louder and more forceful.

“Urrrggghhh.”  Flower rolled out of bed and crashed to the floor.  It was cold, and it hurt.  “Just a second,” he croaked, or at least tried to; it squeaked out of his throat less like a live frog and more like a dead one.  He spluttered and coughed, forcing out the night’s gunk.  He tried again.  “Two minutes!”  The frog was alive, but on life support.

Sandpaper scraped his nose, and his eyes shot open to see Felix licking his face.  He couldn’t help but smile at the tiny black and white kitten, especially as he’d seemingly abandoned his usual mischievous ways and was being uncommonly loving.

His visitor hammered on the door of his tiny studio apartment once more, and Flower wondered who…

“Shit!”  He jumped to his feet.  The landlord!  “Shit, shit, shit!”  And he wasn’t allowed pets.  “Give me a moment,” he called.  “I’ve just woken.”

Felix mewled loudly.  The cat was hungry; so was Flower.  And he needed to hide Felix ASAP.

His brain worked quicker than he’d expected for this time in the morning, and he managed to kill two birds with one stone… or was it one cat with two stones?  Not that he would ever hurt Felix; Felix was the only good thing in Flower’s life, and he was determined to keep him safe.  And hidden.  He dished up some cat biscuits for the kitten, along with some water, then, after relocating the contents of his sock drawer haphazardly under his bed, he placed the bowls into the drawer.  Felix hopped in and went straight for the food.  He purred.

Cat breakfast.

Flower’s breakfast would have to wait.

The door knocked again.

“Coming,” he called, before turning back to the little cat.  He whispered: “I need you to stay quiet, okay?”  Felix ignored him.  “Please?  Just stay here, okay.  Daddy is not supposed to have you.”  He gripped the handle.  “Sorry, sorry.”  Flower closed the drawer.  “Sorry Felix.”

The kitten sounded content, quiet, no objections from within the chest of drawers.

With hands on his hips, he sighed relief.

Flower headed for his front door; it was only a couple of steps from the bed, and he reached it in less than a second.  He unlatched the lock, and it squealed open on rusted hinges.

The landlord, a tall lanky man with greasy hair, loomed over him.

“Mister Flower,” he growled, pronouncing every syllable between his plastic white teeth.  “Where are your clothes?”

“Shit, sorry Mr Houndsworth.”  He covered his dignity with his hands, “give me a moment,” and slammed the door in the man’s face.

In all the sleepy confusion, and the rush to hide Felix, he’d forgotten something very important.  His dignity.  Oh dear.  Flower threw on some trousers and a shirt and returned to the door.

“Come in, come in.”  He ushered the landlord inside.  It wasn’t a large apartment, just one room with a bed and a kitchen, then a small bathroom off to the side.  He hadn’t tidied up in a few days, he’d been busy, and he’d left dishes in the sink and bits and bobs all over the room.  “Sorry for the mess.”  He wasn’t sorry, but he felt like it was something he should say.  “I had a late night at the restaurant.”

“Just what is it that you do, Mister Flower?”  The landlord hunched closer, his voice full of connotations, and pointed at the shorter man.  “You seem to have a different job every time I speak to you.”

He ignored the question.  “Would you like a coffee?  Or tea?”  He thought it best not to give an answer to Houndsworth; he wouldn’t like what he heard and frankly, it was none of his business.  “How about some water?”

“No, I won’t keep you long Mister Flower.”  His shifty eyes darted around the room, scanning everything, every unwashed plate, every odd sock, every dusty shelf.  “Incidentally, I heard a couple of strange noises while I waited.  Sounded almost like… a cat?  But of course, it couldn’t be a cat, could it, Mister Flower, because pets are not allowed.”

“Uh, it’s just… um… one of the cupboard hinges.”  Flower laughed nervously.  “Like the front door.  It just needs a bit of oil.  Squeaks something terrible.”  He laughed again.

“Which one?  I’ll get my handyman on it right away.”

“No!  Umm.  No,” he said.  “No need to trouble yourself.  I’m sure I’ve got something to fix it somewhere.”  Flower grinned.  “Not to worry.”

Houndsworth’s eyes narrowed.  “If you’re sure…”

“Yes, quite sure.  Very sure.  Certain, in fact.”

Felix meowed from within the drawer.

“What was that?”

“Oh, did I say cupboard? I meant floorboard.”  Flower jiggled his foot up and down; he let out a squeak from the side of his mouth and prayed the landlord didn’t notice his poor imitation.  “See?”  He squeaked again.  “Just needs a little TLC.”

“Hmmm,” murmured the landlord.   “If you say so, Mister Flower.”  He entwined his fingers.  “Any other issues I need to be made aware of?”

“Not that I can think of.”  This visit needed to be over.  Now.  “I’ll call you if anything comes up...  promise.”  He didn’t really understand the purpose of these inspections anyway; it wasn’t as if landlords didn’t find a way out of giving back the deposit at the end of the rental term.  And yet, he still complied with the silly contract… mostly.  Felix was going to stay here with him no matter what, contract be damned.

“What’s that?”  Mr Houndsworth extended a bony finger to the kitchen counter.  “Is that…?”

“Cat food…”  Flower grabbed the packet and hugged it to his chest.  “Yep, it’s cat food.”  He didn’t know what compelled him to do what he did next, maybe desperation, maybe stupidity, but he shoved his hand into the packet, grabbed a fist full of the biscuits and threw them into his mouth.  “My cat food,” he garbled as the dry biscuits soaked up all the moisture in his mouth.  “Yum, so tasty.”  The pellets were a little bland on his tongue, but a strong meaty aroma permeated up the back of his nostrils; he tried not to gag as he chewed on the saliva-drenched chow.

The landlord’s mouth dropped open in reply, an eyebrow raising as if the man’s jaw was on a seesaw with his forehead.

Flower forced himself to swallow.  “Want some?” he croaked.  He struggled to keep it down.

“What… I… No.”  Mr Houndsworth’s face turned green.  “Excuse me…I… I need to…” He darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

The noises from within the other room triggered a response in Flower and he vomited into his own kitchen sink, dirtying the unwashed dishes further.  He swilled his mouth with water.  Several times.  But couldn’t get the taste from his tongue, and some soggy chunks persisted between his teeth.  Urgh.

Felix was worth it.

He took the opportunity to check on the little kitten, while Houndsworth was occupied, and slid open the drawer.  The cat was asleep and safe, the vile food he’d been given consumed; he stirred at his owner’s presence.  Felix meowed.  He wanted attention.

“Just a little longer,” whispered Flower.  He pet the kitten behind the ear.  “And then you can come out.  Promise.”

The cat raised its nose, sniffing the air; Felix could obviously smell the cat food on Flower’s breath.  He couldn’t help but laugh in reply.

“It’s okay, Daddy’s not gonna steal your food,” he said.  He kissed Felix on top of his head.  “I just had a little taste, that’s all.”  It was a taste he would never forget.  He tickled the kitten under the chin.  “Be a good boy, yeah?”

Flower closed the drawer, slowly and carefully, and just in time to hear the toilet flush.  He moved to the centre of the room, hands behind his back and fought the urge to whistle nonchalantly.

Mr Houndsworth lurched back into the room, shoulders hunched, and face drawn.  His eyes narrowed, and he glared down his nose at the short man.  “Mister Flower,” he intoned, “are you sure don’t have a cat here?  There is something suspicious going on.”

“No sir.”

“Then why do you…”  The landlord put his hand to his mouth and swallowed hard.  “…why do you eat…?”

“The cat food?”  Flower forced a grin; he could still feel the stuff in his teeth.  “I’ve liked it since I was a kid,” he lied.  “Can’t get enough.”

“Hmmm.”  The tall man’s brow furrowed.

“You don’t believe me?”  Flower’s stomach swirled.  “I… I could eat some more.  If you want me to?”  He heard something thump in his chest of drawers and found himself suddenly sweating; he could sense that Felix was about to go on a mischievous rampage and get him caught out.

Houndsworth sighed.  “No,” he snapped.  “But if I find that you’ve been lying to me, I will…”

“I would never!”  Flower needed to get rid of the other man immediately.  “Is that all?  I’m sorry, Mr Houndsworth, but I need to get on with my day.”

“Fine.”  The man begun to turn to leave but…

“Wait!”  Flower noticed something by the front door, something that wasn’t meant to be there.

“What is it?”  The landlord paused.

“I… I…”  A small black and white furball had escaped his prison and was sat next to the door frame.  Felix was cleaning himself, unbothered, with one eye watching the drama unfold.  “Can you take a look at the cupboard door for me?  The one I told you was squeaking?  I think it might be the hinge.”

“I thought you said it was…”

“While I’ve got you here.”  Flower grabbed Houndsworth and pulled the tall man down to the unit beneath the kitchen sink.  He flung open the doors.  “It’s this one here; it doesn’t seem to be on correctly.”  He pointed at one of the hinges; it didn’t matter which one.  “If you could just take a quick look?”

Flower peered over the landlord’s arched back and checked on the kitten.

Shit.

Felix had gone.

Flower’s eyes frantically scanned his apartment, searching over and around the messy floors and surfaces.  Where was he hiding?  What was he doing?  If Houndsworth saw him, Flower would be in big trouble!  Maybe he’d imagined Felix by the front door, maybe he was still safely back in the drawer.  Maybe.  Probably not.

He didn’t notice the landlord had been speaking to him.

“Pardon?” he said.

“I said it all looks fine to me, Mister Flower.  It’s not even squeaking.”

“Oh.”  Where was that damn kitten?  “Thanks.”

Mr Houndsworth unfolded upwards, and Flower heard the man’s joints click and clack as he straightened out and faced him.  “Anything else?” he snarled.

“No sir.”  And then he saw it.  His mischievous little beast was tight-roping along the edge of the sink behind Mr Houndsworth’s back.  If the cat had emerged just a few seconds earlier, he would’ve been caught just as the landlord stood.  “I… er… can’t think of anything.”  He took hold of the lanky man’s arm and yanked him to front door.  “Let me see you out.”

“Hey, watch it, Mister Flower!”  He shook off the short man.  “I don’t need an escort.”

Flower stepped in front of the be-kittened sink just as the landlord turned toward him; the view was blocked.  “Apologies.”

“You’re acting very strange, Mister Flower.”  Mr Houndsworth’s eyes narrowed, something they’d done quite a lot since he’d arrived; perhaps the man needed glasses.  His expression was accompanied by a frown.  “But everything appears to be in order.”

“I’m just tired,” he replied.  “Arrrgghhh!” Needles clawed into his back, climbing and clinging to his shirt, pricking the skin beneath.  Felix!  “Just cramp, urgh.”  He gritted his teeth.  The kitten might be cute, but he was being a bastard right now.  “I’m… ok.”  He wasn’t.

“Hmmm.”  Flower didn’t think Houndsworth’s face could scrunch up anymore, but it did.  “If you say so, Mister Flower.”  His features unclenched.

Flower nodded.  Felix continued to crawl, centimetre by centimetre, and he could feel his eye twitch as he tried to hide the pain.

“Don’t forget about your rent on Saturday.”  The landlord opened the front door and stepped outside into the hall.  “I don’t want you to get behind again.”

“Mmhmm.”  Felix had reached his shoulder blades; it would only be a couple of seconds before he breached his shoulders and emerged in full view of Houndsworth.

“Understood?”

“Mmhmm,” Flower repeated; fur tickled the back of his neck.  “See you… Sat… urday.”  He closed the door in Mr Houndsworth’s face, cutting off the landlord’s farewells.

The ordeal was over… until next month’s inspection.

Flower let out a long sigh.  He reached behind him, gently removed Felix from his shirt and hugged the little black and white kitten close to his chest.

“Good boy.”  He planted several kisses on top of Felix’s head; the cat meowed with each one.  “You’re safe now.”

“Mister Flower,” called a suspicious voice from outside.  Shit.  The landlord, he was still just beyond the door and must’ve heard everything.  “Was that a cat?”

Felix meowed a reply... it was a squeaky floorboard.

The End.

Next Flower Story (coming soon)