Monday, February 11, 2008

Arguing In Georgia

BUSTER: (serious) Is that supposed to be funny?

MATT: (smiling) Yes. I believe so.

BUSTER: Is that directed at me?

MATT: ...Yes...I believe so. (smiling again)

BUSTER: You know...the color is wrong!

MATT: The color?


MATT: (laughing) Oh, that color. Yes,...the color is wrong. But the rest of it hit right on target.

BUSTER: Are YOU the big fat guy?

MATT: (stopped smiling) You do lay around an awful lot....doing nothing...just eating and sleeping and pooping.

BUSTER: Yeah...well, there isn't a whole lot to do in this truck, you know. At home I can run around the living room and into the kitchen and back. I can jump up to the window sill, bounce on your bed, wipe my nose on your pillow, and claw my way up the side of my crows nest to the top tray feeling as though I've accomplished something meaningful.

MATT: You can do that here, too.

BUSTER: (shaking head) Nope! Here I run up to the dashboard and sit next to the windshield...until you blast the defroster to chase me off--

MATT: (interrupting) --You sit next to that freezing cold windshield....I chase you off for your own good. Then I--

BUSTER: (interrupting) --you chase me off so I have to run a very short distance to the bed and sit or lie down. That's what I get to do all day...sit or lie on your bed. You won't let me jump in your lap while the machine is moving--

MATT (interrupting) --the truck!

BUSTER: --while the truck is moving. You get mad if I try to jump up to the top bunk--

MATT: (interrupting) --Do you realize what will happen if I have to slam on the brakes if you're up there? You'll fly forward too fast for your claws to grab onto anything...and you'll crack your little furry head open on my overhead compartment...or worse yet...the windshield! At least with the lower bed you can hide behind the suitcase---

BUSTER: (interrupts) ----The suitcase!...oh the only salvation from complete and utter boredom. Digging my claws into it gives me brief and fleeting jolts of pleasure. The only thing more pleasurable would be to sink them into your face...

MATT: (interrupting) --That's it!!! Into the kennel you go. (grabs Buster and shoves him into plastic kennel, locks door). Sorry kitty, but that was the wrong thing to say just then...

BUSTER: Let me out.


BUSTER: I have to go to the bathroom.

MATT: Liar.

BUSTER: All that arguing got me excited. I have to go potty.

MATT: You'll scratch me again.

BUSTER: No, I promise. I really have to go.

MATT: Oh, okay. But you better not be lying. (opens door to kennel, Buster climbs out)

BUSTER: (Runs to litter box...does his business...climbs out, saunters up to Matt and scratches his right leg).

MATT: HEY!!! You promised!

BUSTER: I know, but I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore.

MATT: Hmmm. I wonder if John McCain will be like that.... (picks up Buster and returns him to kennel, locks door).

No comments: