“That is quite amusing.Do you do it often?”the cat asks.“I can’t imagine it’s good for your dirty asshole.”
“My asshole is not dirty.”I pick myself up, snatching the salt canister from where it’s tumbled onto the floor.
“Really?When was the last time it had a good licking?”
I don’t dignify that question with a response, because surely it’s saner not to talk to your hallucination when they ask about your asshole being licked.
Instead, I stomp over to the other staircase, rushing down as quickly as I dare.Despite the cat’s jerkwad comments, she’s clearly worried.
And if my hallucination is worried, I may as well indulge it.
“The things I do to get sleep.”
“Oh, you’ll sleep much better without that disgusting cretin hanging around leeching your energy.”
The cat watches me from the top of the stairs.
“Does it leech it out of my butthole?”I ask.
“What a foul thing to say.”The cat blinks at me.
I roll my eyes and pour the salt out along the door.I step back as soon as I’m done, and sure enough, the glow and electrical charge seems to shoot right from it.
Maybe I should write these side effects down in my notes app, just in case.
What would they file this under?Migraine aura?
I give a humorless laugh.I don’t think that’s what this is.
Witch.Familiar.Talking cat.I’d rather it be true than need to be lobotomized.Most days, at least.
“Do you have a name?”I ask, trudging back up the stairs.
“Prudence.”
“Right.I’m Sylvie.”
“I know.Unlike you, I’m observant.”
“And rude,” I tell her.
“You’re the one who watches me clean myself.No one made you.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just shake my head.
“It’s a good thing you’re meeting another witch tomorrow.She has experience with ghosts, so she should be able to help you.She’s not as powerful as you are.”Prudence gives a sniff, her whiskers twitching.“Hopefully, she’s smarter, though.”
“What is your problem?”I stop, staring down at the little cat.“I got you food and water and a litter box.Why are you being mean to me?”
“I’m not beingmean; I’m being honest.”The end of her tail flicks back and forth.“You accepted this role without one lick of curiosity about why you were being handed the golden key to a bookstore.You’ve ignored your witch instincts for what, forty years?”
“I am barely thirty,” I yell.
“And just now, you almost fell down the stairs with nothing but a ratty t-shirt on.It’s unbecoming, Sylvie.”
“You lick your own butt.”As far as retorts go, it’s not my best work.
“How else is it supposed to get clean, hmm?”
