This is my first entry for Jane the Sane’s Fiction Friday (sorry about missing last week, Janie!). I try to do writing exercises every day. This was one I did last week where the assignment was to write a brief scene that incorporated a traffic cone, a miniature cat, fried fish, velcro, Teddy Roosevelt, and polkadots. I know–tough, right? But I really liked the result!

At first he thought the thing hiding behind the orange traffic cone was a rat—a big rat, an oddly shaped rat, but definitely a rat. He took the last bite of the fish ‘n chips he’d bought from a street vendor and tossed the grease-soaked newspaper wrapper in the rubbish bin. As he walked closer and the creature didn’t scuttle away, he began to realize that the thing was not rat-like at all. It was about 8 inches tall, hairless, and had a wormy pink tail. It meowed at him. It’s a cat, he thought, a tiny, naked cat.

He noticed that it was wearing a collar with a tag. He didn’t want to touch the thing, but it looked so miserable standing there in the snow—poor bugger must be cold, he thought—that he felt compelled to act. He bent and scooped up the animal, grateful that his gloves prevented him from feeling its strange hairless body, and read the tag. “Binky” was written at the top, the cat’s name, he supposed, then a phone number. He shifted the cat to his left hand, retrieved his cell phone from his coat pocket, and dialed the number. “Hello,” boomed a male voice. “Um, hi,” he said. “I’ve found Binky.” “I’m Binky,” the voice answered. That was unexpected. “What’s this all about then?”“I have your cat,” he said. “At least, I think it’s a cat.”“You found Peanut?” Binky whispered. “Thank God! I’ve been so worried about her. Where are you?”Ted glanced at the intersection and relayed the information to Binky.

“That’s right around the corner,” he said. “Would you mind terribly bringing her to my flat?”

“I don’t know,” Ted said, glancing at his watch. “I’m due back at the office shortly.”“There’s a reward,” Binky said in a tantalizing voice. “A big one.”

After a momentary hesitation, Ted agreed and set out toward Binky’s flat. Moments later, he found himself in a creaking elevator with an elderly attendant—must be the last one of his kind in London, Ted thought—rising slowly toward the fifth floor. He located Binky’s apartment, rapped sharply on the door, and waited. He didn’t wait long. Mere seconds after his knock, the door flew open and Binky grabbed Peanut, cooing like a mother hen.

Ted knew he should introduce himself, but the man’s appearance left him speechless. The portly, mustachioed man beaming at the tiny cat through rimless spectacles was swathed in a brightly polka-dotted garment that Ted supposed was a caftan. He was wearing red high heels. And lipstick. Despite the eccentric accoutrements, the man seemed terribly familiar to him. Was it possible that he knew a person like this? Then it hit him—Binky was the spitting image of that cowboy American president, the Rough Rider… Teddy Roosevelt.

“Where are my manners,” Binky said. “Do come in.” He spun on one red heel and sashayed into the apartment, Ted following reluctantly.

“May I offer you a drink?” Binky called over his shoulder.

“No, thanks,” Ted replied. “I’ll just um… I’ll just collect the reward and be on my way.” He felt terribly awkward mentioning it, but he’d come this far, hadn’t he?

“Of course,” Binky said. “Back in a mo’.”

Ted perched awkwardly on a leopard print chair, bewildered by the riot of color and patterns in the strange sitting room. A sudden blast of disco music startled him, causing him to upend the magazine rack by his foot. Ted stuffed magazines back into the rack haphazardly, noting that the volume of the music had settled to a bearable level.

“Sir,” Binky purred, “your reward.” Binky grasped the front of his caftan with both hands and pulled, the garment tearing open along a vertical seam of Velcro down the front. Binky stood before him, naked except for the heels.

What the hell, Ted thought, loosening his necktie. Why not?

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