Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

Writer Lady looks in the hallway. “Oh.” After a moment of silence she turns back to her white board. “I need more space for Faerie.” Erasing the remaining area allotted for the Nana problem, she delegates a tiny corner of the area for Nana and returns to her brainstorming. “This needs color coding.” Nana Dupree looks at the man standing in front of her. Tall and on the muscular side, the man from the Bible study fiasco has returned to the scene of the crime. His dark blue jeans and freshly laundered button shirt having been replaced with a khaki t shirt and an odd mix of cammos. It reminds her of an overzealous toddler who decides he wants to be in every branch of the military at the same time for career day at preschool. She supposes it could be worse at least his boots were matching. “May I help you?” she asks. “I kinda wanted to have a word with ya and the kid at the front desk said I could find you in here. I was here you know...earlier.” “I may be g

  You’re touching me.” Tinkletoes says. “On purpose.” “I am.” “Just makin’ sure you know. What do ya want?” “To discuss your behavior.” Writer Lady responds. “Yeah what about it?” “You weren’t very nice to House.” “She wasn’t nice to me first.” “You’re an adult.” Writer Lady says. “She’s not?” Writer Lady contemplates her answer. “If she was human she would be. But she isn’t.” “So anything that is not human doesn’t have to be nice?” Tinkletoes asks. “No.” “So what are you saying?” “You shouldn’t have been mean to her when she was going through something so difficult.” Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady with an irritated expression. “Men don’t understand how devastating aging can be for a woman.” Writer Lady says. “Mural Man did okay. He’s a man, sort of. And he was supportive.” The self-proclaimed mercenary counters. “Yes he was.” Writer Lady agrees. “Why weren’t you?” Tinkletoes holds up his left hand and counts off the r

Dedicated to everyone who's found true love.    Writer Lady opens her mouth to protest. The self-proclaimed mercenary raises a hand and places it over her mouth blocking anything that tries to come out. She steps back quickly, opening and closing her mouth, sticking her tongue out in an effort to exorcise any cooties that might currently be living on or near her mouth. Tinkletoes doesn’t notice, he’s fixed his attention on the enemy. The self-proclaimed mercenary has already continued his counteroffensive when he exits the shower area. “So...what are you going to do now that everyone knows the truth?” he asks as he paces the remaining open area of Writer Lady’s postage stamp sized bathroom. “You can’t exactly cover something like this up. It’s not like there’s, you know, hair color.” House’s face is pale in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, her eyes dark and lifeless without their usual bright glimmer. “I’m paper. I would probably disintegrate.” “That wo