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 Posted: Sun May 15, 2016 5:41 pm
Solo: It's the Small Things in Life
(WC: 695)
"I think I've got it."
Bob watched from his post as the denim rump of his human wriggled from the small opening he'd created behind the large entertainment center. Robert, in a moment of bachelor celebration over his new-found freedom, had purchased an excessively large television set, accompanied by an equally excessively large entertainment center to house it.
The only problem was, Robert was not technologically savvy and while putting the cabinet set together had been a figurative piece of cake, plugging up the television had not been.
So the poor man continued to struggle, for what was going on to be the third consecutive hour, as tired fingers continued to attempt to connect together wires to DVRs to televisions to wall sockets to routers to...well, whatever the small box #4 could possibly be. Bob, on the other hand, found the entire process fairly amusing, despite the fact that having to wait such an extended period of time meant missing out on today's episodes of Judge Joe Brown and Maury. At this rate, the Dr. Phil show would soon be over and all of Rob's shenanigans would start cutting in to his Judge Judy hour.
Sigh.
There was a muffled sound of success (which sounded a lot like hollering), then the human was squirming his way from out behind the heavy wooden furniture piece. Brown hair was mussed up, his old, faded t-shirt showed signs of sweat but there was no mistaking the s**t-eating grin spread across Robert Banks' face.
"Alright, Bob, you ready to catch some Law and Order?"
Furry eyebrows raised in response, as if to silently respond excuse you? but the large cat said nothing. He simply remained an anchor on the recliner's arm, paws dangling over the side of the chair as his tail occasionally flipped from one side to the other.
Apparently not concerned with his pet's lack of response, Robert snagged the brand new television remote from off the side table and pointed it directly towards the wide, seventy-inch screen.
Click.
Click.
Nothing.
The grin quickly faded, the lines of his mouth curving downwards as hazel eyes narrowed. Muttering a few words under his breath, the human took a step forward and paused. Glancing down at his hand, he took a moment to snap off the back end of the remote and - sure enough, no batteries.
It would take a few minutes more (and several explorations of drawers) before the new home owner would realize that he had no batteries for the remote. Lightbulbs, he'd bought in bulk for the various new fixtures in his house. Plug-ins to keep the rooms half-decently scented. But batteries? None.
With a flurry of curses and motions, the frustrated lawyer was out the door and on his way to the local drugstore, amazed and infuriated at his own incompetence. Bob, on the other hand (or paw, in his case), merely drooped himself off the side of the chair and slowly made his way up the stairs and into Robert's bedroom. A hop onto the nightstand and a not-so-gentle shove sent the alarm clock flying off onto the ground, where the Maine Coon expertly used his claws to pry off the back of the battery case.
Double A's were extracted from their home and one paw shoved the corpse of the alarm clock under the bed, doomed to be forgotten at least until Monday morning, when Robert would inevitably discover its disappearance after waking up late for work.
Bushy orange tail bobbed up and down in the air, swimming through the house like a shark's fin as the feline made his way back into the living room, where he then flipped over the discarded remote control and went to work, carefully rehoming the batteries. Moments later, the power button was smashed and the television flickered to life, the speakers blaring out into the room. A few more button punches and the familiar intro music to a familiar court show was ringing through the brand new entertainment center, just in the nick of time.
Smiling to himself, Bob hopped back onto the recliner, did a circle, then snuggled in to enjoy his favorite show.
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Posted: Tue May 17, 2016 4:39 pm
Solo: Trolls Come in All Sizes
(WC: 535)
The old grandfather clock down the hall struck ten, the chimes echoing throughout the small house, alerting the inhabitants of the hour. If one were to listen closely enough, the faint sound of Robert's snoring could be heard upstairs, the exhausted man tucked away in his bedroom, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. Monday morning was slowly approaching, looming in wait for all the unfortunate souls with weekday jobs.
Bob, however, had no job - at least, none that he was terribly concerned with. So while his human slumbered away, he was downstairs, perched on top of the dining room table as the glow of Robert's open laptop encased the furry ginger head that continued to stare at the screen.
Green eyes studied the forum page as one paw moved the wheel of mouse down, scrolling after reading every post. He'd first seen it mentioned on one of the racier Jerry Springer episodes, when Jerry has brought on a handful of people to reveal their secret fetishes to their spouses. While Bob was no kitten as far as his state of innocence went, but this concept had been completely foreign to him.
Furries.
He'd gone online and investigated it, confirming that furries were, in fact, a real thing. Humans, dressing up and pretending to be animals? Running around wearing goofy looking costumes in attempts to connect to their animal side? What a load of crock.
While Bob was not one to buy into their cockamamie beliefs, he found that it did make for some hilarious fodder when it came to writing in their internet forums. A darkened room, a quick snapshot with the laptop's internal camera and suddenly Bob had one of the most realistic masks that most of the furry fandom on Furries4Lyfe forum had ever seen. Bob the star-marked cat, or TaterbobInPurrson (as he had dubbed his login name) was becoming a local legend, with tales (tails?) of his explorations and exploitations. The confidence exuding from his writing clearly claimed more than a few visitors. Donna, whose human shell supposedly housed the soul of a giraffe, was the local forum moderator that he'd suckered into listening to his stories first. Soon after, the various cheetahs, cats, wolves, dragons and even a rhino were commenting in his threads, begging for more of his antics in story form.
Gah, this was beautiful. Were these idiots really this gullible? And for them to want to try half of these stunts in their giant, neon colored animal costumes? Priceless! One of the dragonfolk had already caused enough damage in a comic book store to make it on local news, one of them had mournfully confessed. Absolutely fantastic!
Claws extended themselves and Bob began to type into the blank forum window. Each keystroke took time to punch; it was hard when your paws tended to press multiple buttons at once. And some humans wanted paws instead of fingers? What kind of whacktastic crack were they smoking? Fingers could type, fingers could control the remote control better! They could open bottles! Food containers! Fingers were amazing!
Then again, if it wasn't for people wishing they had paws, he wouldn't be having fun messing around with them in the first place...
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Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 7:29 am
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Posted: Thu May 19, 2016 7:29 am
Solo: Grocery Store Games
(WC: 1047)
It was growing late in the afternoon, though the weather was still just as brisk and breezy as it had been earlier that morning. Bob had decided to get out and stretch his legs... in other words, he'd sauntered down a mile or so to the local coin-op to watch his episodes of Jerry Springer from a different television set than the one in Rob's living room.
The washing machines had been noisy, but not noisy enough to deter him from hearing the sounds of the various crack-addicts as they torn at each other's clothing and wigs when it came to fighting for their mutual lover. He spent the second episode on top of a dryer in use, enjoying the warmth and heat coming from the machine as he watched the argument ensue between two stripper midgets and their triplet sex-changed sibling. As Jerry was giving his closing statements and thoughts, Bob was hopping off the worn out machine and pushing his way past the glass door and into the cool outside air.
He knew the schedule - it would be another fifteen minutes, at the very least of commercials scattered throughout some other random Judge show he didn't particularly care for. The feline estimated it would be a good half hour until Judge Judy's time would arrive, giving him ample time to head home and get comfortable on the couch.
As he was passing by the local grocery store, a customer hurried out the front door, sending a waft of air and smells in her wake from the store behind her. There were normal coffee smells coming from the adjacent cafe next door, there were the familiar odors of the bag boys and grocery clerks as they hauled bags into carts and then there was it. The smell.
He paused as he too another whiff, taking in the smell of the fresh salmon that had clearly just been put on ice. The grocery store boasted of fresh seafood among all its other prides, all listed on the signs plastered against the windows.
Stomach growling at the thought, Bob decided that he had just enough time for a quick pit stop. Judy's rulings might go better with a fish between his paws, after all.
The automated door sensed his turn as he approached it, sliding itself open as orange feet padded over the black tarp sensor. It was as if it welcomed him eagerly into the store, which was full of both interesting sights and smells. Bob usually didn't visit local joints like this (mostly because, well, he wasn't usually invited) but the call of the wild (seafood department) was far too tempting for his empty stomach.
He'd made it about four yards in before a pair of black slacks and tennis shoes decided to block his path. The knockoff brand of shoes belonged to, it seemed, a stern looking teenager complete with a pizza face and black-rimmed glasses that did a shoddy attempt at hiding the acne. The name tag, laminated with bold blue letters said Andy B.
"Cats aren't allowed here." The nasal voice scolded - and then the broom came out. "GO. Scat! Shoo!"
To emphasize his point, the straws of the broom came crashing down a foot in front of him, forcing Bob back a step as his tail arched in response.
Oh no. He wasn't about to be beat out of lunch by a broom.
Giving the kid a glance, Bob was quick to dart between his legs. This elicited a loud shout from the kid, followed by the sound of stamping shoes as the youngster pursued the (now dashing) cat. Black tie whipped behind him as he scurried forward, the seafood smell growing stronger the closer he got to the back of the store. It didn't take long to find the display of packaged fish, all nestled nicely on a large case of ice.
One long leap and he was atop the ice, wincing slightly as the multitude of sharp edges pushed against the soft pads of his paws. A slice with one claw and a perfectly wrapped salmon cut was free. Dipping his head down, he had just enough time to snatch the fish and dart out of the case before the broom came crashing down on top of where he'd stood.
There wasn't a rhyme or reason as to what aisle he chose to run down - he picked the nearest one and booked it. Good 'ol Andy B was quick behind him and the Guardian could feel his heart racing with every step. Deciding to alter things up a bit, he jumped up onto the nearest shelf and shimmied his way up to the top, knocking various boxes and cans down along the way. The broom was quick on his heels with slaps and whacks but as soon as he reached the top, it became obvious that the clerk was not happy about the fact he could no longer reach the cat.
"You little..."
The nasal-sounding teenager reached up and attempted to scale the shelf, where the cat at the top totally looked like it was smirking. Could cats smirk? How? What?! This feline was going to cost him dearly in the Inspection Report - the Health Department was sending out somebody today and if they saw the grocery store was letting in stray animals....
Andy should have focused on other things to worry about than stray cats, because it was at that precise moment that everything started to teeter.
Bob didn't wait to see what would happen, jumping off the shelving and making a mad dash for the end of the aisle, just in time to hear the loud CRASH behind him.
He took a chance and turned around - the cat nearly dropped his salmon at the sight. Andy B was hardly visible amidst the mountain of cereal boxes and breakfast food paraphernalia that covered him. The aisle itself was on its side, the clerk lucky enough to be showered by the shelves' contents and not to have found himself directly under the metal rack itself. The broom was nowhere in sight and soon, neither was Bob, the cat happily prancing his way out of the store and down the sidewalk, making it home just as Judge Judy's theme song began.
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Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 1:54 pm
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Posted: Wed May 25, 2016 1:55 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2016 8:24 am
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Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2016 7:13 pm
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2017 7:32 am
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Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 7:57 am
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Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 7:58 am
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Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 7:59 am
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Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 8:49 am
Regular: Help
Bob + Invidia
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Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 9:28 am
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Posted: Thu Jan 19, 2017 9:29 am
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