[R] Santa Claws (Leo, Lyssa, ?)

[The Red Dame]

Leo loved the holidays. Most people were in good spirits, and a great many of them had been drinking. And Leo, Leo threw parties. Because what else was he supposed to do with his “bachelor estate”? He’d volunteered the rooms in his house for the Negaverse’s use, but he figured the offer had been forgotten or wasn’t needed. So he carried on like normal.

A small army of landscapers and decorators had descended upon his estate the yesterday and hadn't left yet, frantically manicuring the lawn and bushes, putting up lights and decorations. Some had ventured into the main floor of the house itself, festive adornments popping up every time he turned his back. He had never observed the process before, usually staying at a penthouse at the casino until it was done, but this time he stay just in case he had… unexpected guests to explain. As a result the whole process left him bemused and because he managed to always be under foot, he was eventually kicked out of his own house.

Well, sort of. They couldn’t kick him out of his own house, but he did decide to stay in the pool/guest house for fear of being gagged with garlands. The guest house had already been cleaned and decorated, and yeah, okay, so he was messing it up a bit, but they could clean it again as repayment for trying to run him off. He missed his theater room though. And his bar. He stood by the French doors overlooking the pool area, contemplating making a run for the bar, when a noise caught his attention.

“ Hello?”

As far as he knew he was alone in the guest house, but it sure sounded like someone or something had gotten inside; perhaps a squirrel, what with all the windows being open and shut to “air out” the place. He located a broom – he hadn’t know the guest house had one prior to that moment – and crept towards the bedroom where the noise had been coming from.  

[matisha]

Lyssa had taken it upon herself to help Harley or Ate, or Scrumbum as she was called on a Wednesday afternoon (it was a new title, still working out the kinks). She had of course also decided to help Harley without her knowledge, consent and above all permission. Harley had realized a long time ago that Lyssa was…special. So special that she shouldn’t talk to anyone and it was better if she were chained and gagged at all hours of the day. Lyssa loved Harley for finding her the best possible chains and rags money could buy! Oh how she adored the yummy tastes of the material, especially when caught by surprised down an alleyway or in the park. These rags always had the best flavors. Like forgotten misery or a summers mistake, it was all there deep within the woven threads. But it was that Harley, or Ate even…Scrumbum would even think of Lyssa in such high esteem to include her in these taste sensations filled her with joy and happiness!

So seeing the look of defeat when Harley rummaged through the black bag she carried, or when they had to skip out during the night from another motel due to the shiny pennies she no long held filled her with…sadness? No, that couldn’t be right. Indigestion maybe? A hernia…yes it felt like one of those. She had to get rid of the hernia, she had to find a place where Harley no longer looked upset or agitated to the point that she watched people and their black bags and sometimes stole their black bags but didn’t wear them as a hat because it wasn’t the season for high fashion just yet.

Fast-forward several fits and a dead bird and Lyssa had crawled her way through drain pipes, down dusty attics and up crumbling cellars to stumble across this mansion of all mansions! Its charm capturing her by how many people carried glittering snakes of paper, garlands of immense colours and washing up buckets filled with stuff she couldn’t see. So much bountiful items and gorgeous gifts could only mean a goddess lived here! A perfect place for her sweet Harley to rest her head at night! The fact she couldn’t get in the building did nothing to deter her frantic mind and finding an open window into the pool house had set her into search mode for this illusive and all powerful goddess. She wasn’t, as Lyssa found out, in the beautifully stuffed goose feathered pillows laying on the bed or in the priceless vases she may or may not have tipped over and tried to eat in retaliation or even the inflatable Santa that sat proudly over his domain in the pool house. That attack was purely out of spite, there had been some things said, some threats, some inappropriate hand gestures and suffice to say the Santa had rebuked Lyssa’s offer of hooking up and ended up with some very large puncture wounds as a parting gift. It was enough to say that the bedroom was a mess, it was even better to call it a bombsite. It was only when Leo called out that the wild searching ceased and covered in feathers Lyssa cocked a twitching ear to the door and smiled. No goddess but a god!

“EllO GuvNor, Don’T ListEN to ThE SantA He CamE on To meEeeeEee!”

Holy Blasphemy

I will forever be in your debt for not whipping me over this horribly late reply!!

 

[The Red Dame]

Not a squirrel. Not even a raccoon. It was like a kid had gotten a hold of knives and thrown a temper tantrum all over the room. The amount of destruction was actually impressive, especially considering the amount of time it had happened in. And the source of the rampage was apparently a red, talking cat. One that, had she been human, Leo would’ve thought had been hitting the fun baggies.

“ I’m sure he did.”

Most people would freak out, but Leo wasn’t bothered. Plenty of valuables had ended up as the victims of the parties Leo threw; he lived The Hangover. s**t like this was par the course. However, the talking cat was something of a novelty. He’d heard of their existence, but that was about it.

Abandoning the broom against the wall, Leo stuck his hands in his pockets and entered the room, surveying Lyssa’s handiwork.

“ Been busy redecorating, I see. It’s very distressed-chic. I forgot requesting the redesign though; my bad. Who are you, exactly?”

It was a bit odd talking to a cat, but only a bit. More sensible than the long, philosophical debate about metrosexuality he once had with a Che Guevara shirt, at least. Though as of this moment he was sober, unlike that night. Sober and wondering why this talking cat had wandered onto his property and taken offense at the Christmas decorations.

Matisha

 

[matisha]

Watching the boy approach Lyssa twisted her head near 90 degrees to the right, squinting slightly as she did. She could easily see his glowing god-like tentacles growing from his back now and although awkward nodded her approval at his mighty appearance.
“He DiD although His ReverSE psychology DiD nOt work On me ThiS tiMe, He hAs yEt to finish His MastERs DeGrEE.”

She said all this while flipping her head to the other side and then back again giving the impression of a crazed red metronome, her eyes never blinking as she did it. She was pleased with this home it would do well for her Maiden and herself and with the presences of a God they would be well protected from the white mooners.

“ “I goT The MemO YoU lEft Me on The TuesDAY BuT YouR CheQue bounced, Its OK thOUgh I lIKe YOU, WE will BE very HappY HerE DieTY.”

Holy Blasphemy

 

[The Red Dame]

This cat seemed to be missing some of her sanity marbles. Maybe she’d left them behind in her padded room. Or maybe she had found a “candy” bowl to dip into. For all he knew, all talking cats were like her. He planned to make a point of finding out.

“ I do enjoy company.” Usually he invited the company over rather than the company inviting itself over unannounced, but he was flexible. “ Who am I expecting? Is it another talking cat like you?”

Leo had a vague suspicion of what having two cats like Lyssa around would be like: expensive. Valuables would have to be replaced, repair costs covered, and people paid to keep quiet if they heard them talk. He had the money – well, his father did – but he’d need time to think of a cover good story.

Matisha

 

[matisha]

Lyssa shook her head as if she were trying to whip it off, her extracted movements making her whole body wobble from side to side as she answered his comment. “Oh nO CheesY-WheEzy gOd, anOther liKE me wouLd be…iMpoSsible! Only I aTe the sKY staRs, only I liSTened to the fiGs TrEes, only I spoKE the magiC wORds!”

Unexpectedly aggravated she grew louder the more she spoke, her body shaking in rage as she ripped at the soft furnishing under paw in an unexplained frenzy. Lyssa didn’t really get angry. It was an emotion she couldn’t comprehend, it frightened her and she it, neither one understanding the other so they had agreed to part ways. But sometimes it would visit, sometimes it would catch her so unawares that she didn’t even know how to react. In this trying moments she would sing deep and low bringing herself back into her calm state of mind, reminding herself of the people, her people. The Country folk.

" ♪ I founD him by thE railrOad track thiS moRNing
I coUld see thAt he was neaRLy deAd
I kNElt down besIDe him and I listENed
JuSt to hEar the wORds the dyINg fellow saId –
WHO WEARS SHORT SHORTS! WE WERE SHORT SHORTS! ♫"

With a snap she closed her mouth and smiled, peace restored without her soul as she let the last note ring out strong and true and into the hearts of everyone one who had listened. She had done good today. She’d done good.

“I likE that Cash mAN, he singS the oranges! HarlEy doEsn’t like him thOUgh, too mUch spacIng beTWeen the eyES. You shoULd meet her YEs? I will Go geT her? You wLll teach hEr thE waYS of weArinG shoRt shorts? “

Holy Blasphemy

I am so sorry for the lateness, I am utter bull ploop!