Page 6

“Jingle Bells! You know, Santa Claus and ho-ho-ho. And mistletoe. And presents to pretty girls.”

I turn the candy bar over in my hands and resolve not to eat it until morning. After all, this is South Side and I’m a prisoner. Maybe tattoos, gun-shot wounds, and shameful orgasms are as close as it gets to being visited by Saint Nick in this place.

2

ARCHDUKE OF MAYHEM

Cast out?

Abandoned?

I shiver against the wind that ruffles my majestic fur, surveying my Kingdom. Below, there’s a street. Ahead, there are structures—the living quarters of my unwitting subjects. The Angry One tossed me out here, on the balcony, yet again. Perhaps they want me to understand the scope of my inheritance, and truly, it is a sight to see. So vast, the world before me.

Danger!

I jump, turning to hiss at the fiend.

Oh, it’s just a car parking below.

I return to brooding.

Like I was saying.

I’ve been cast out, thrust to the mean streets of East End like so much fodder, but I’ve accepted this duty. A ruler must know one’s territory, although I must admit, the thought of venturing out there seems daunting. I could jump through the bars, but that seems perilous. The drop is quite steep.

I turn back to the glass door, watching the people mingle inside.

Inside, where it’s warm.

I press my paw to the glass.

Perhaps there’s food, as well.

Mew?

Receiving no response, I settle in for another solitary evening, paws tucked under my chest as my eyes track the movement inside. Tonight there are other people. New people.

Predators?

Fiends?

Perhaps.

I keep my wits about me, as any warrior should. Inside, the Sad Girl spares me a glance or two, but there’s no compassion in it. I don’t think she likes me much, though I don’t know why. She never smiles.

I bat a paw out, claws extended.

Mew?

Am I not a good protector?

She ignores me, as usual. I spend a while cleaning my fur, making sure to fluff it out nice and clean. Just in case she decides to retrieve me, she’ll see that I’m a good cat—clean and hardy, and certainly more so than Angry Guy.

Look at me, Sad Girl.

Won’t you smile?

Opposable thumbs are overrated.