Food? Where?

“Mom? What is going on? Why aren't you typing yet?” Dobby asks entering the kitchen.

Mom is looking through one of the upper cabinets.

“Oh Dobby you scared me!” Mom says looking down at the ginger colored tabby.

“You're thinking about that rooster again aren't you?” Dobby asks.

“You would be too. I'm traumatized. Where's that tonic the therapist sent over?” Mom asks.

“You don't need that stuff Mom.”

“Maybe if I just eat something.” Mom says heading to the fridge. Dobby follows and they both look inside.

“I don't know Mom. I don't really see anything in there. When did you cook last?” Dobby asks.

“I cooked on...Monday!” Mom answers proudly. “What do you mean you don't see anything? Mom starts taking plates and bowls housing leftovers out of the refrigerator and setting them on the counter. Some produce out of the crisper too. “See kitty? I found supper.” Mom smiles.

Dobby jumps up on to the counter to inspect the “bounty”. Sniffing at a covered bowl he says, “This doesn't look very fresh Mom.”

“What do you mean? These are perfectly good green beans.” Mom says taking the lid off of the bowl.

 “Except those beans are furry and...purple.” Dobby answers.

“These beans have definitely been in the refrigerator longer than a week. Well, I know this has not been here longer than a week.” Mom removes plastic wrap from a dinner plate. “Meatloaf” she pronounces showing off her culinary creation. “This is the first meatloaf that has been in my home in over three years.”

“Dad always made the meatloaf, didn't he?” Dobby sniffs at the meat cautiously. “I don't think it's supposed to smell like fruit Mom. Or alcohol.”

“It smells like rotten fruit?” Mom sniffs, “Oh my goodness.” Mom makes her own face. “That settles it. No meat tonight.” The meatloaf gets put into the discard pile with the furry, purple beans.

“At least I have...dessert. I thought I had dessert.” Mom holds up a misshapen brown ball. “This was an orange. At least we know what happened to the meatloaf.”

“What is this that's left?” Dobby asks sniffing at something ugly and brown.

“This is a potato and it's still...good. I'm baking this critter before it spontaneously combusts. While it's baking, I'll tell you about my traumatic experience.”

Dobby rolls his eyes. “Don't be a pussy, Mom. Quit exaggerating.”

“I am not exaggerating, seriously. If anyone is a pussy, Dobby...”

The Ecstasy

“YEAH! ALRIGHT!” Laughter emerges from the room where the computer is being housed temporarily.

“Having fun with the computer Mom?” Dobby asks from his seat in the hallway.

“Yes I am.” The sound of Mom's voice moves as she physically dodges weapons fire currently attacking her avatar. “YOU SNEAKY WENCH! You brought semi-automatic weapons to a hostage negotiation! I should have known that a hulking soldier like that was nothing but trouble. I thought I could trust my own sister.” Mom says as she returns fire. “Take THAT! HA! I WON! That will teach you to screw with me.” Mom puts down the controller as she leaves the room. “I'm hungry. That game took a lot out of me.” Mom says as she heads to the kitchen. Dobby follows quietly.

“I'm really glad you and Internet could get back together Mom.” Dobby says quietly.

Mom takes her attention away from the contents of the refrigerator to study Dobby's face. “Don't worry kitty, I won't forget about you. You're my sweet baby.” Mom reaches down and scoops the large ginger tabby into her arms.

Dobby struggles against her enthusiastic attentions. “Really Mom it's okay. I know you love me. Hugs aren't necessary.” Dobby lands on the floor with a grunt and takes a minute catch his breath.

“Oh...” Mom says. “I broke the 'Don't Carry Me Around' rule again. I must have gotten excited. I forgot. I was not expecting to get Internet back so soon. The fliers didn't help but I guess either the letter to Santa or the Easter Bunny got through! Amazing how quickly the tide turns when you call the right people. We can't tell though. If we did Santa Claus would never get a minute to himself.” Mom forgets about eating in her enthusiasm. “So have you been on yet? It's really fun. You have to go surfing with me. COFFEE!!!????”

“No thanks Mom. Cats don't drink coffee, remember? You might want to back off on the coffee just a hair yourself too.”

“My hair? You don't like it?” Mom looks at Dobby crestfallen, absently twisting the ends of her freshly cut and styled hair.

“No Mom. I wanted to know how much coffee you have had today?”

Mom thinks for a minute. “I have only had the usual pot.” Mom answers turning to look at the coffee pot sitting on the counter to verify she is telling the truth.

“How many cups Mom?”

Silence.

“How many?”

“Eleven?” Mom answers quietly, looking down at the floor.

“Eleven cups of coffee!”

“It's only one pot of coffee...” Mom counters.

“That's twice what you usually drink and way above your quota.”

“But...but...”

“Mom...you know better.” Dobby admonishes.

“I made a big pot of coffee because I thought we were going to have company. The company canceled and Internet came back. I got really excited and...I forgot to stop drinking with my fifth cup of coffee. I'm...I'm sorry kitty.” Mom explains and bows her head.

Tinkletoes enters the kitchen to see Mom pouting and Dobby standing on his hind legs with his front paws on his hips looking angry.

“Dobby. My cat. What's up here? You told her didn't you?” Tinkletoes asked looking down at Dobby.

“I'm sorry Ma'am. Like I explained to Dobby I can't afford to bring you with us this year. If you want to pay your own way we would love to have you come along. You would be most welcome.” Tinkletoes says trying to remedy the situation he walked in on.

“Seriously man, if I knew it was going to be this tough I never would have made the deal with you. But a deal is a deal. A Browncoat can't afford not to collect on his debts and you already agreed. I did a fair day's work and I need you to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Bargain?” Mom asks.

Dobby loses his authoritative stance. The cat's body tenses and he becomes ready for the attack.

“Dobby and I got you your Internet back for you. Now he owes me one.” Tinkletoes says.

“How? What do you get in return?” Mom asks.

“You're looking a little bit pale Dobby. You want me to explain it?” Tinkletoes asks looking down at Dobby. Dobby nods. “I have to tell you Ma'am this cat of yours is brilliant. If he had been around when the Alliance was taking over things would have gone way different. Dobby loves you. He saw how lost you were without Internet and so we put our heads together and figured out how to speed things along. I asked around. Actually I asked my little brother because he knows Roly, to ask Roly what we can do to get things moving along.”

“You have a brother? Who is Roly?” Mom asks.

“Yes Ma'am. A younger brother. Tiddlepants. Roly is the internet guy who works in this county. His name is Roly, short for Roly Poly, he really likes his snack cakes. Anyway Tiddles asked Roly, what can be done to move things along. Roly did not offer any help. Dobby and I set up surveillance, got to know Roly's weakness and convinced him that you were next on his work manifest.”

“You didn't?” Mom asks suddenly worried about police breaking down the front door and arresting them all.

“No Ma'am. We didn't hurt Roly. We just had a little talk in the abandoned grade school gym on the south end of town. Roly was sitting down the whole time. Dobby's idea, though that was really something. We knew Roly loved snack cakes. Snack cakes are mass produced, full of preservatives and not nearly as fresh as homemade.”

“You didn't?” Mom asks.

“Yes Ma'am we did. We used Homemade Cupcake Torture.” Tinkletoes answers with a big grin. “Roly had to watch me eat your fantabulous fancy cupcakes and he couldn't have any. When he fixed your Internet he could have the second box of cupcakes and whatever was left in the first box.”

“Thank you so much Tinkletoes for helping Dobby get my Internet back to me.”

“You are welcome Ma'am. Now Dobby needs to hold up his end of the bargain.”

“Which is?”

“He has to go with me to PhoenixComicon and get his picture taken with everyone I choose.”

“That doesn't sound so bad.” Mom answers.

“Tell her the rest.” Dobby says.

“If we run into any other important Browncoats (the actors from Firefly) he has to dress up in costume for the picture.”

“And...” Dobby says.

“He has to dress up like that actor's character.” Tinkletoes finishes.

“So if he takes a picture with Nathan Fillion he has to wear the uniform of a Browncoat?” Mom asks.

“If he is taking a picture with Ron Glass he has to dress up like Book.” Tinkletoes says.

“If Jewel Staite is there I have to wear the ruffled pink dress.” Dobby wails. 

"Complete with parasol.  Don't forget the parasol."  Tinkletoes says.

“Dobby, why did you agree to this? You hate wearing dresses.”

“Tinkletoes threw in the costume crap only after we shook paws.” Dobby answers. “Mom the costume thing shouldn't count.”
Tinkletoes takes off his knit cap and puts it on Dobby's head.

“At least Jayne's knit cap looks good.” Mom answers with her own huge grin. Sometimes life is good.

January Thaw

“I really like this.” Dobby says to Mom. “What is it?”

“Fresh air. I opened a couple of windows.”

“Wow. Amazing.” Dobby says sticking his nose against the window screen and inhaling deeply. “I haven't smelled anything like this in ages. What kind of magic did you use? Did TP help?”

“Nope. I opened them myself.” Mom smiles.

“It is so nice. Warming. I feel so energized. It's like...I'm in the same atmosphere as the birds and the squirrels.”

“You are and as long as the window is open you are breathing the same air as the birds and the squirrels.”

“Cool. Why haven't you done this before? Opening the windows.” Dobby asks.

“It was too cold outside.”

“No before we moved here.”

“You mean the sweet bungalow with three times as many windows as this house?” Mom asks.

“Yep.”

“Those windows couldn't be opened. Let's not linger in the past. Just enjoy the fresh air now. The windows may not be open for long.” Mom points out.

Dobby glares at Mom. “You are going to give me such a refreshing gift and then snatch it away?” The kitty asks.

“No, but nature might. This is what is known as the January thaw. It went from the high 30s and snow piled up on the ground to 60 in a matter of days. The cold weather and snow returns every bit as suddenly.”

“No.” Dobby cries in despair.

“Yes.” Mom says. “Weather is unpredictable and Winter can be a harsh mistress for kitties hunting squirrels. We will just take advantage of the pretty days while we are here and remember them when they are gone.” Mom starts humming the song, “Memory” from the musical CATS.

 “Or we can do something really fun. It is the same temperature in Los Angeles today, so let's take some Californians, and bring them back here. I'll let you find a couple of technology Zombies who never look up from their IPADS and smart phones. They will have no idea we moved them until Winter returns mercilessly and in full force. They will be shaking in their surf wear. Trying to find an App to fix their situation. But there won't be one. Mwahahaha...”

“No Internet yet, huh Mom?” Dobby asks.

“No not yet. Can you tell?” Mom asks.

“The ominous way in which your mind is working and the evil genius laugh kind of give it away.”

“I'm just not myself these days kitty.”

“It's okay Mom I understand. I have an idea that might get you your Internet back.” Dobby leaves the room purring his own evil genius laugh. “Me-owhahahaha...”

The Agony

Dobby enters the den to find Mom typing at the computer. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, she is sniffing intermittently. “Mom what are you doing? I thought you were working on the new batch of cupcakes for Tinkletoes. We are still paying for my survival skills training.”

Mom looks up from the monitor, drying her nose with a tissue. “Yes. I'm almost done. I just stopped to write a little poem to Internet. I miss it so.”

“Do you feel better?” Dobby asks.

“A little bit. Let me read it to you.”

“Do you have to?” Dobby asks.

At the exact same moment Mom starts reading her poem to Dobby oblivious to his last statement.

“Oh Internet my darling. Come back to me my love.

I miss you so very desperately. Let me give you a hug.

I never appreciated you completely until you were gone.

Please come back I need you! Don't leave me all alone.”

Dobby sits quietly and listens...

“Precious Internet, I miss you....”

Dobby yawns and listens...

“No one else has ever known me so well.”

Dobby scratches his ears and listens...

“Life without you, quite simply is a social net-worker's Hell!

All my cyber friends who need me. Whatever shall they do?

Without out my jokes, wit and wisdom.

Women like me are so few.”

Mom stops reading and Dobby raises is head from his rectal cleansing. “That was good Mom. Excellent poem.”

“This is just the first section, I am writing an Epic Poem. Like the sagas the singers tell of at court during medieval times. My poem is an epic saga of love, loss, despair! Not to mention an eerily darkened monitor.”

Dobby whistles and TP the faerie materializes floating in the air to the kitty's right side. One by one books stack up in a pile in the middle of the den's floor. A line of faeries materializes. Each faerie picks up a book. Most disappear as quickly as they appeared. One faerie stands still reading the book. He reads a little then giggles, reads a little and giggles. The words “silly humans” escapes his lips as our unknown faerie turns a page and laughs even louder.

“What?” Mom turns around to find the source of the disturbance. “Wait a minute. That's my book.” Mom says, reaching for the thick novel. The unknown faerie disappears in a tiny puff of smoke leaving shiny pieces of paper on the carpet where he stood seconds beforehand.

“That was my “Game of Thrones” book. I hadn't even started reading that one yet. Dobby, how could you?” Mom looks at Dobby with intense sadness.

“I told you after the last incident, if you made any more “Game of Thrones” references the books were out of here. This is getting way out of hand.”

“I said the word 'medieval'. That's all.”

“Today it's 'medieval' and the next thing I know you are challenging the mailman to a duel with a longsword.”

“I have to carry a sword. Rape is too common in the seven kingdoms not to.”

“The mailman is eighty years old if he's a day. The poor man pissed himself, dropped his letters and ran.”

“That will teach him to wander my neighborhood! When all of my current and future enemies both domestic and foreign do the same our kingdom will be secure!” Mom announces. “Winter is here, and we are ready!” Mom declares holding up her medieval dagger with pride.